Cower, small child,
For I have come for you,
Your eyes show great fear,
Though your years are few.
Suddenly, you call out;
"Mommy! Daddy! Help!"
Yet I stand and watch,
While you cower and yelp.
Slowly, I creep forward,
A knife concealed by low light,
You stare at me, afraid,
Shaken and stirred by fright.
Once again, you yell;
"Mommy! Daddy! Please!"
You are ignorant, young one,
I have already killed them with ease.
Finally, you see my face,
As I can see yours,
I child is a welcome break,
From killing so many whores.
As you scream, I swing at you,
A small cut on the arm,
I feel a great deal of pleasure,
Like a cat playing with yarn.
Quickly, I approach you,
Hold the knife against your throat,
Now, clearly, you can see,
The bloodstains on my coat.
One quick jerk, and it is done,
The child lay in his bed,
A place he once thought was safe,
But now he is dead.
People question my methods,
When they see the blood on the walls,
But having a heart of stone,
Is better than no heart at all.