Art Of Killing Poem by chris dawson

Evil drew, the dagger held
As drawn too was her breath
And held there by the chill of fate
She face a certain death
Though short the moment of his pause
She saw the reel of life
Eyes of fear, it gripped her there
Yielding beneath the knife
The world condensed to but a frame
Her focus mere feet
As panic wrapped its cloak around
Her mind embraced defeat
Thus how statistics claimed a score
A story draws conclusion
As credits roll, so they extol
The Creative’s cruel illusion