I wanted to try write another twisted poem so, here it is! Please review.
I kissed her cold forehead,
inhaling her perfume,
Lifting my dagger,
I stabbed her unconscious body,
again and again,
and again.
I watched the blood,
fantasizing about the next one,
the chosen one.
I wrote a message in blood on the wall,
I wanted them to find me.
Just not yet,
not till the pattern is complete.
Watching the scarlet blood consume her,
I thought this is art.
Unlike those wannabe artists,
they paint what they want to see,
not reality,
unlike me.
I painted pictures few understood.
Taking my camera,
I took a picture,
I didn't want to forget this one.
She was special.
Her scarlet blood felt so warm in my hands,
so right.
Lifting her body into the bath,
I crossed her arms,
out of guilt.
But no,
I cannot let myself feel guilty.
I must remember my mission,
I must complete the pattern.
Without a moment's hesitation,
I stole into the night.
Leaving her and my guilt behind me.
