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Sep 2015
Little boy of urges hid, birthed in his mothers
Blood of stagnant death, behold the urges bathed
Him now in. Little one grew with morality taught
Only the Bad must bleed the good must be saved
With the cutting of a sterilised blade.

Blood became his urge as he worked with that
Loved, cherished so much. Oozing off objects
Trajectory of A-, From the exiting wound.
A sawn off shoot gun mouth fed then words
Became thought on everything but his mind.

Night earned my respect for deeds done, in
Silence, like a wasp did it sting then awoken
Upon pictures displayed, and then I spoke.

"Do you recognise those now never to utter words,

"I used to let them talk, but they mostly screamed,
"Swore, told me they'd **** me, really??
"Did they contemplate that they were about be silenced.

All was surrounded, sealed upon plastic and duck
Tape to keep that which spilled, kept in. As the blade
Fell, breath, life drained away. My urge fulfilled and
The bad gone permanently away but death is a clock
And tomorrows a brand new day.

My little playmates in their playground of death
At the bottom of the sea, now others have joined
Living breathing taken them away from me. I keep
Them in essence a blood droplet of final breath, in
My walls how Norman Bates of me.

"Come on son just do the right thing,

"Not now dad were having a meeting,
""He pops up at the most annoying times,

I have killed family, friends, lovers have even
Crossed the path that meets the edge of a blade
That makes lies still and fulfils my urges, they
were good I thought but paths were crossed so
They were ended another droplet spilled.

I love my hobby, who can say they love to ****,
Its only the bad that need to worry for when my
Fever peaks, and so many bad people to ****.

"I look at you, and see a part of me,
"But when you turn silent, I'm nothing like you,

I get a call, close up shop. All neat and tidy, like
No one had been here before. Slowly under the
Seat sealed delivered to my playmatesΒ Β new
Hidey hole. Now back to work and see what splatter
Awaits that I didn't cause.

"Mmm yep I'd say their dead, as I don't think?
"Don't worry I found their head behind the sofa,

God I love my job, cant get any better than this.
I`m A Dexter Fan.
Poetic T
Written by
Poetic T  On Oblivions Doorstep
(On Oblivions Doorstep)   
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