I dry heave in sickness;
you lie on the floor,
screaming in hurt,
grasping at the wounds you want not bore.
Reflect;
there's a difference,
blood bathed and bare;
I as the only witness,
you soon will die there.
Remedial?
I doubt it,
was I sure?
Oh, You bet.
Drown as you lie there,
Hmm, better yet...
Scream at my laughter,
and quieter you'll get.
As silence takes over,
I'll clean up your mess.
My sick hatred darkens,
Since you are my stress.
I throw you away now,
your grime and your mess,
The blood quickly washens,
quiet at last.
...I awaken in sweat;
I scramble to the door,
grasping the telephone;
beeping, is the line that is yours.
I settle in knowing,
okay, you must be.
So i revel again,
in the monster in me...