Psycho

I don't know why I feel such a need.
Such an itch to watch them as they plead.
It's their blood I thirst for as a tear,
All the while they scream how their lives aren't fair.

For every “please” and every “why” I've ever heard,
I must admit, I have never murmured a single word. . I've never explained why I take their lives,
Their eyes go blank as I stab them with knives.

Bones being crushed, limbs being riped,
all their eyes pulled out, their skin a striped.
Their blood squirts out, tis a red array.
To some, I'm a murderer, but thats a bit cliché.

Their mangled bodies make me quite content,
Although, sometimes I wish it had all been dreampt.
I crave the love only a living human can give,
I just don't have the strength to let them live.

Countless times I've urged to stop,
watch the blood move as I mop.
Clean away my dirty sins
while I hide the severed limbs.

But through it all, I must admit
my darkened soul just feel a lit.
As they cry, I can't help but laugh,
you have now entered the mind of a p s y c h o p a t h.