Psycho-Path Poem by Saint Cynosure

This road I walk is my psycho-path,
long list of names my aftermath.
There is no voice inside my head,
that tells me someone should be dead.
Maybe its the hat and shoes,
maybe some are born to lose.
I could be your best of friend,
neighbor, boss or next of kin.
I could be standing next to you,
contemplating what to do.
I choose my style to please your flesh,
I feel relief with your last breath.
Because of me you've no more pain,
and to my list I add your name.