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Sanity froze, it just stood still,

he would kill and kill,

and that gave him an aroused feeling,

something he could not find with the living,

he would murder with skill,

it added wanting anticipation to the thrill,

he stood over a small sink of blood,

he collected it after the attack,

he dabbed a little on his shoulders,

and allowed some to roll down his back,

it electrified him,

almost felt like he was cleansing himself of the sin,

erasing the violence in his past,

so that the violence in his future would last,

and the rush would not come and go so fast,

the victims stayed on his mind,

the woman cried after he slit her throat,

the old man who wore an expensive coat,

the rope he tied around the young girl’s neck,

the jogger who he sliced into a total wreck,

all the murders played like music,

and he sang along with the tune,

death hidden in a message of peace,

that peace was kind of a source,

but he killed with hatred and with such a force,

and he would repeat the course.