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Jan 2016
Face down on the hard concrete, a puddle of blood carries my reflection, as usual. Can't see anything, eyes blinded by tears. Have to get back up, have to finish what id started. My arms disobey my commands to pick myself back up, sore and disabled. **** my head back, kneeling before my superiors. Blinking to clear the tears. Starting to see a figure towering over me. Laying flat on my back, my head pounding. Getting lifted against a wall. Sadness overtakes me. No. Not sadness. Anger. No. Rage. Hate. Insanity. Ripping his skin. He doesn't need all of it. Just a little bit. Screaming. Horrible screaming. Cries for help. Laughing. Break. Crackle. Bone and cartilage grinding. Snapping in between my fingers. He doesn't deserve both of his ears. Black. Silence. Satisfaction. Regret. I'm a monster. Yeah, I am. And I love it.
I still remember the blood streaming down his face.
Written by
A Delusional Psychopath  California
(California)   
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