A perfect picture of one’s life

A perfect answer to one’s crime.

 

In the deepest, darkest of the mind

The cruel, heinous, and unusual emerges.

The recesses of hate, anger, and fear

Dilate as the hands craft a sinister deed.

 

Creating pain and suffering—ending what could be great.

 

One

Two

Three

Four

 

Days gone by with no answers at all

 

Five

Six

Seven—

It’s done. I found you. 

 

What did you do? Why did you do it?

Officer, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. 

But what I’ve done is for me.

 

It’s not for you

For you are disturbed

You tell me and end this torture of many

 

I’ll entertain you. 

Just you

 

One-it was dark

I took her

Her hand oh so sweet

Then moments passed it was over

 

Two-it was fast

He didn’t feel a thing

 

Three-that one was long

Perhaps a few mistakes

But my finésse made it work.

 

Four—

Was sloppy, that’s where I sought you

 

Four-not sloppy.

But a call to the world...

 

You see my work is art, 

It’s patterns and styles.

 

But that pattern failed you, did it not?

 

If you may think. 

See one is put down, another artist comes up.

 

If one is found, my work here is done

a knock on the window, a break in the thought

I’ll be back.

 

“You got him”

I did

“How do you feel”

 

Uneasy, my friend

My dream job since my childhood

Fight back the evil

 

“And you are.”

 

Evil will always be here.