Disclaimer: Star Trek doesn't belong to me.
A/N: this poem is a rondeau.
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Where No Man Has Gone Before
I killed him. He was strange, changing,
like a god, he said; smiling—
"you should have killed me while you could"
but I couldn't, though I should
have—I know I should. —Just thinking
Here, about my best friend, laughing
at us all. And his threatening—
but he was my friend. He was good.
I killed him.
It was Spock, who eventually
convinced me, when no one else could,
I should hate him for that. —I should.
I can't. —I killed him, it was me…
I killed him.