| » Poem: Quiet murder |
Quiet murder
written by Genocide Reaper06:46 AM 10/30/04| Blood on the wall, sounds of the clock ticking. I can hear water dripping. The sinks drain covered with a slight bit of rust. A woman once peacefully asleep in her bed. But now nothings left but a body, sections cut from her waist to her tits. So beautifully removed, organs, intestenul tabernacle, serial killer cliche, make the click of the knife against the wet stone. I'm washing my hands in the tub, cleaning the blade of gore and blood. Sweet memories of shadow like treachery. And I wrote this just for you. To read. When you got home. This will be you, this will be the future, read into it. Now, I'm slipping up behind you right now, as you read this final word, the edge will be to your throat....now. |
All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author.
Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
I wrote this for Bloody wrist, she said she wanted to read more...So, I just started with the first few words and it slowly started unfolding.. No, I don't plan on killing her.. I just wrote it so she could read it.
[ View Genocide Reaper's Profile ] [ Go to the Poetry Portal ]
This Poem has been viewed 389 times
|
|
|
|
