He kept looking at the ancient clock,
Searching for his wife all along.
But she wasn't there anymore,
Then he heard a knock at the door.
He rushed to it, but there was nothing—
No sign, no trace, not even the air.
He couldn't find her, he couldn't call,
He tried everything one could do.
Each time, he became more distressed,
The foul, rotten smell from his body.
He kept pushing back, staring at the wall,
Thinking what he did wrong.
By midnight, he was tired, thirsty,
And finally gave up searching for her.
He lay down on the ground, thinking,
Realizing he was the one who killed her.