“Put the man out of his misery”,
she said to me in my mind,
“take the knife and help unbind”,
she said to me – helping me.
So I took the knife, held it high,
brought it down, watched him die,
I smiled as the blood flowed free,
watched him die – victim number three.
I crouch in the corner of the room
slithering blade resting in my hand,
begging to bring upon your final doom,
let that sweet red nectar flow.
Crawl in to bed, pull up your covers now.
Wouldn’t want the monsters to bite
or perhaps my knife is how,
how your life will soon joyfully end.
Aleatory Poetry 