I stand here surrounded by all these corpses.
Caked in blood,
Loving crimson blood.
I knew these people,
Loved all of them.
I knew her with the slit throat.
I knew him with his skull caved in.
I knew the two with their heads missing.
I knew that one with a broken neck,
And this one here with a bullet hole in his face.
Family and friends.
I killed them to be remembered.
They’ll report about me.
Plaster me all over the news,
My very own bloody soapbox.
They’ll hate me,
They’ll love me.
Spread my legend.
Serial killer they’ll call me.
This bloodbath is my magnum opus.
My blades singing were my masterstrokes.
My claws around their throats were my crowning achievement.
My gunfire was my chef d’oeuvre.
The bloodstains are my masterpieces.
This is what I was born for.
This massacre is my bloody legacy.
[…] A continuation of sorts of ‘A bloody legacy‘. […]
[…] A Bloody Legacy Serial killers are the monsters that reside within human society. They can be anybody you see. They could be me, they could be you, they could be that guy standing right behind you right now. Don’t turn around, it’ll only provoke him! This is a poem written from the point of view of a particularly dire killer. […]
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A Bloody Legacy
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