A criminal and his thoughts. |
It’s a feeling I can’t explain. My brain is screaming, I’m going insane. I see the knife on the bottom shelf; Should I scream in pain or cut myself. It reflects moonlight and it seems so near. I walk right toward it, it reflects my sneer. I squeeze the hilt against my thumb; It feels so cold as my hand goes numb. I open my door and walk into the street, A low cold mist hangs at my feet. I look in the distance and see the house, With an evil man and his wicked spouse. I walk quite slow, my pulse still low. I’m halfway there, then I see the glow. Their television is on, and their window ajar. I slide it open and enter their bar. Mr. Stantz was drunk, and asleep on the couch, His breathing quickened so I began to crouch. I readied the blade and made a loud sound, He fell over startled and hit the ground. I kneeled right beside him and gently slit his throat; The blood trickled down into his velvet coat. I then jabbed the blade into the top of his head, And left his remains inside his tool shed. I then killed his wife and returned home before dawn. I was arrested the next morning, I’d left blood on the lawn. I’m mildly happy in my warm and tiny shell, It will only take time before I break from this cell. |