Take me to the Chorus

I sat down on my rusty-springed bed. The creaking underneath me brought shivers to my spine. I hated it here. I was told by God to do those things. It was what He wanted, I didn’t want to, but he told me to. The jail-guard walked past my cell.
‘G’nite Henry.” He said, smiling a little.
“’Nite Phil.” I lay down on my bed. Rolling over to face the picture of my 7 year old little girl holding her 6 month old brother made me want to cry. It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t. God told me to do it. He told me to kill those men. They were doing bad things in His temple of peace. Death Row was gripping me with its black nails of blood and tainted souls. ‘I’m sorry Kenny, I’m sorry Louis, I’m sorry Karen.’ I thought as the tears escaped my eyes. My wife and children were to be fatherless and husbandless. No matter how much we begged, I was still sentenced to death. The faces of the men I killed flashed through my mind. I didn’t want to kill them…I heard my cell door open. I sat up, only to be greeted by malicious smile. She came forward, knife in hand.
“Louis…don’t do this, daddy loves yo-“ Blood spurted out from my chest.
“Bye-bye daddy.”