Many times I have waited here,
watch their eyes widen with fear.
The long to throttle her pastey throat,
to hear her whimper as she chokes.
Many times I have committed crime,
at this right spot, at this right time.
Just another routinely kill,
to satisfy lust of blood to spill.
This dark night is no different from others,
many by my hand have had to suffer.
Innocent, guilty, who am I to judge?
I'm not usually one to kill on a grudge.
The reason I crouch here every second night,
is because I find in death the most pure delight.
Why do I sit here, all so carefully planned?
I just need to feel it, warm blood on my hands.
I have never been caught, not once in my life,
though so many bodies have been sliced by my knife.
I dump them together, to let them decay,
if I may say so myself, it is quite a display.
I love the smell when I go there, the chill of their eyes,
cold, deep and edgy, product of my lies.
They lie chopped and bonded, thousands of lives,
but they are worth nothing, whats one more who dies.
I hide away mostly. I just sharpen my tools.
Imagine my next victim, a sharp drunken fool.
I do like a challenge, so maybe a boy,
I anticipate his last words. Those I always enjoy.
This is my life and this is my way,
I am defiantly not your killer cliche.
No one knows me, know one sees me,
I know what I'm doing, so please let me be.
Bronze trophy winner
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