Well beneath your ego,
your humour,
and everything else that creates, such a realistic personality,
you hide damaged souls.
You took them and injected them with poison.
You realised if you could lure them in, they couldn't get out.
You hunted them.
The cyinide gas was too much.
But they could hide no longer.
You wouldn't let them.
You could see through the lies that covered up the sharp teeth.
Fake masks, made from plastic,
But you could see through it all,
you took the silver bullet, filled with poisin,
and shot it at the unknown.
The ones of which only you had knew.
Immortality had seemed no more for them.
There were ****** moments,
until you saw them die.