Psychopath Poem by Vision Ghost

Shadows, shadows that do speak, to my domain
A point of clarity, seeking toward a mutual gain
As I stroke the stone, across the gleaming blade
Of so many faces that, always, seemingly invade

Seeing their little words, dance within a conscious
For what I can do is something, so utterly atrocious
As is the power I do have, over such an existence
They are of my nightmares, always in persistence

Mimic my knuckles bend, as I slowly load this clip
Upon the amber juice, to which I do cordially sip
And I feel the swell of the liquors embrace, flow
Knowing that they be so very frightened, and slow

I am at once the master, and such as is the glory
Placing the blade into its holster, to tell the story
As I will spill the bloods, and release their souls
They will have their deliverance, like black coals

Preserved in years to be illuminated, and so ruined
As is my preservation in secret, until I am swooned
Brought into this world, for the becoming of sins
Exhilarations tingling, like many needles and pins

Too many sweet tears that they have shed, unto me
Music played to whimpering, of my captive spree
Please let me, please let me go, of her final word
I kissed her lips as I drew the blade, yet so unheard

Please catch me, take me so very far away, from here
So I may rest my head, dream without endured fear
But as my prerogative shall practice, for this killing
As so many more spirits, in blood that I am, spilling