Death is Haunting

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With each body that fell beneath my knife,

their scorn and misery gave me a glimpse into the afterlife.

Visions of hell and baneful disaster,

to death and tragedy I have become the master.


Plagued by dreams of suffering and persecution,

the spirits of my victims cursed and begged for my execution.


To kill was to live,

stealing a life to rejuvenate my own.

Feeding the addiction until bloodlust became rife,

a passion for bleeding writhed in my bones.


The world couldn't endure my ruthless vengeance,

to innocents I deliver penance.


Helpless to stop my rage, I became their vindictive god,

their families demanded my head, for they knew I was a fraud.

Thirsting for more blood, I am consumed with wanting,

their screams engraved in my heart, death is so haunting.

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