the deed never done right

this was new

he never let conscience or forethought creep in
he stabbed, he wiped his blade, he moved on

wouldn't slow down long enough
for it to sink in
moving quick, eyes darting, nervous
but never brave enough to admit it

i can feign it good enough to get close
and deal the blow
he thought

and he did
almost did
victims were always left maimed
the deed never done right
the dull, clumsy efforts of a novice

but now
he planned it
the angle and location of the blade
the distance to and from
the amount of strength and emotion it would take

yet

still he stumbled and fell

plunging his blade in
to strike an artery

once again he had floundered
just nicking the vein