Paint Can

"You want it. You need it..."
The voices start in my mind,
As I stare at the lady nearby.
I observe her casual movement
'Til she crosses to the street
Opposite of me.

"You want it..."
They repeat and echo.
They know all I have is a pocket knife.
The blade isn't very big nor sharp.
"You need it."

"The scarlet paint. You need it!"
Well, I was painting a macabre picture.
Why not use real blood?
"Why not use real blood?"
These voices know me too well.

"You need this!"
I need this.
"She has it."
She has it.
I was already behind her...