Twisted smile
Sight of blood amuses the child
Red so deep and thick
Cascading from the neck
Puddle of red overlapping her
Frail and motionless body occurred
White clothing stained with red
Heart beat tremendously sped
Knife apart of him
Submerged in blood
There's not a thing the boy would
Could do to save her from him
He was planning on ripping her apart
Insanity was unleashed
Delirium hungered
For more.
Not satisfied with what he's done
Felt like none
Had begged for life
But met with his knife
Spoke to late
Her name was Kate
The child seemed harmless
Yet there the girl lay as the blood did caress
Her lifeless face with blank eyes
Strewn across the floor did she lie
His name was Mark
You could say he left a mark on people
Every slaughter he left a M on the victim
Claiming that it was him
Orphanage to orphange
Mark wins the hearts of people and takes their blood
A cold serial killer
Not a good dealer
How could such a little thing do harm?
Like cut off one's arm?
He was taught from the bEsT
His own fAtHeR
Famous and well known
Police after him but haven't caught him
You could say he vanished in to thin air
The truth was that his little boy who did not care
Who had been taught well to not be merciful
Or even remorseful
Not a single emotion on the boy
Just the insanity that drives him like a toy
Controlling him
Changed him
Grey blue eyes darkened to black
When will he be back?
No one knows of that
Remains but a mystery
Mark one day walked to his father when asleep
Not a single sound peep
Was heard that day or the next
No contact with anyone not a single text
Blade in hand
He let it land
Slashing his father's throat
Blood wrapping him a thick coat
Gurgled while it filled his lungs
Choking him a bitter symphony sung
Didn't feel anything but pride
At what he's accomplished
Last thoughts were not of punish
my work here is done
Father couldn't care none
Just drifted away from everything
Losing grip of life as we know it
Black eyes fluttered shut
Darkness consumed as blood oozed from the cut
What a pleasant way to go
By the hands of your own 6 year old son
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Yeah ik its a bit sadistic,sorry if it disturbs you in anyway
YOU ARE READING
I A m E m o t i o n a l .
PoetryThis somewhat book will simply be a recollection of poems.Not the same characters for each one,nor same plot.It will consist of new stories and situations at each part.I hope you enjoy the stories!Despite from 2nd pov there also will be some written...
