i'm over the sappy pathetic stories
i wanna write poetry about my glories
either that or killing, its a two track mind
speakin' of either one of 'em helps me unwind
the whole death thing used to unease me
but now every single part of it intrigues me
lately i've been thinkin' my two tracks may have met
my stories of glory used to be my stories of regret
to kill was just a thrill but now its my joy and pride
i really never thought the two would ever coincide
guilt is no longer a feeling i must endure
with bloody hands still, i feel so good and pure
the faces of the lives that i took no longer haunt my dreams
i dont hear the beggin' 'n' pleadin' or those awful screams
so late at night when my dirt is done and my victim is turning cold
i rest my head on my pillow and wonder what tomorrow will hold.
Hmm. Sounds like a confession from a serial killer. If that is what you were aiming for, you achieved it nicely.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I absolutely fell in love with this poem when I read it. If that makes me sick... then so be it. :) Beautifully written.10.