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#murderer
And then, that's it, our nervous friend, there Visited by red specters, Indian reservation, of course In São Paulo, I already knew how things would turn out It's going to be hard to control: fear, fear, fear Then things faded away I never would have imagined it would end like this. Strange story! Yep, too much cognac, crack, her crime? Threats that became long and terrible Killing her was more of a relief than a revelation Just me, they'll say it was only me, you went home You see the thing! 10 years, maybe a reduced sentence a little over 8 years in any case! You get it. Now I know, now you see, it's too late. Death has done its work, and I'm the prime suspect. And you're as sad as the guy in the TV series. So sad and affected by this dying **** Well, she must have suffered! In life, as in death. I'm not going to run away, just make them think I'm messing around. At full speed, you go home, make pancakes. I'm going to Cincinnati to do some shopping with her bank card. My face in the fog inside my mouth. Unhappy cockroaches slumber in the silence of my throat. I became a monster trying to do my best. Who is God? Where is God? Lord, spare them.
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Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 5:41 PM UTC
**** the rain
Shoot the bird in the foot Let the sin drip down your chin You've downed your prey And held them at bay. Now sink your fangs into flesh and blood And pierce the veins With their flowing crimson. The mess before you Feathers strewn about Clean and white and dotted with red. Doesn't their fear astound you The beating of a heart in their breast Dark eye does dart around And nails scratch for any grip. Don't you tear into them more And revel at the meal? The way their screams part from their lips Like an innocent bird What have they done to deserve this? Mortal bones break Mortal flesh tears Mortal blood does weep. Does the crimson not shine in the light Like an expensive wine in a fantasy's delight? It's blue inside Not red. It's white Not red. The flesh falling away from the bone With phalanges exposed to the cold night air. I saw it happen, When you peeled the skin away The layer of white like that of a peeled apple being prepared for a pie. When you pierced the cheek with your sharp white points. When your lips graced the curve of the neck and suckled until crimson spilled. The velvety black inside your mouth, Corrupted with the scarlet red of fresh blood from the vein in which it came. Does it not bother you? When you dismantle your prey as though you are a bird of the night And them a sleepy songbird wishing for a roost? Hunger. It must burden you so To blink when a heart beats and roars And to hold back the tempest inside Lest you expose your most private secret in front of the crowds. How I wish it does so. Forever. May you never feel the joy of taking the lives of them all at once. May you cower in the darkness And hide within the deepest shadows Not because the sunlight burns, No, because the men will hunt you and make your kind known as they sharpen their wooden spears. And none of you will be safe again. Bleed your bird Drain your victim They are perhaps helpless alone But the cluster of many is the terror you shall know, forevermore.
0
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 2:44 AM UTC
Crimson, Oh Innocent Bird!
Shoot the bird in the foot Let the sin drip down your chin You've downed your prey And held them at bay. Now sink your fangs into flesh and blood And pierce the veins With their flowing crimson. The mess before you Feathers strewn about Clean and white and dotted with red. Doesn't their fear astound you The beating of a heart in their breast Dark eye does dart around And nails scratch for any grip. Don't you tear into them more And revel at the meal? The way their screams part from their lips Like an innocent bird What have they done to deserve this? Mortal bones break Mortal flesh tears Mortal blood does weep. Does the crimson not shine in the light Like an expensive wine in a fantasy's delight? It's blue inside Not red. It's white Not red. The flesh falling away from the bone With phalanges exposed to the cold night air. I saw it happen, When you peeled the skin away The layer of white like that of a peeled apple being prepared for a pie. When you pierced the cheek with your sharp white points. When your lips graced the curve of the neck and suckled until crimson spilled. The velvety black inside your mouth, Corrupted with the scarlet red of fresh blood from the vein in which it came. Does it not bother you? When you dismantle your prey as though you are a bird of the night And them a sleepy songbird wishing for a roost? Hunger. It must burden you so To blink when a heart beats and roars And to hold back the tempest inside Lest you expose your most private secret in front of the crowds. How I wish it does so. Forever. May you never feel the joy of taking the lives of them all at once. May you cower in the darkness And hide within the deepest shadows Not because the sunlight burns, No, because the men will hunt you and make your kind known as they sharpen their wooden spears. And none of you will be safe again. Bleed your bird Drain your victim They are perhaps helpless alone But the cluster of many is the terror you shall know, forevermore.
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I chased you. You ran from me. I missed you. You came back to me. I loved you. You loved me back. I found my first home with you. You moved in with me. I started to fly. You started to fall. I resented you. You wanted to marry me. I turned your bad days worse. You didn’t deserve that. I wanted you gone. You wanted me back. I told you I never loved you. You asked for another chance. I brushed off your goodbye. You turned around and died. I thought I moved on from us. But you come back to all my thoughts. I didn’t mean to do this to you. You didn’t know I was so bad for you. I want to trade spots with you. You should still be here. I didn't know I was your torturer. You didn’t know I’d be your murderer. C.K. Orzen
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Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 5:16 PM UTC
Murderer
Desire. Killing softer souls Then meets the eye. Screaming, Drowning. Running, Empowering, I am all but there. My mind flares With ideas That the heavens wouldn't dare To declare. For life, I do not bear. Numb to a feeling, Born too daring. Unwilling to sober, Utterly uncaring. That is I, And I shall be until the end of time. Where I sit against a wall, Dimmer than my mind.
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Jan 2, 2024
Jan 2, 2024 at 11:53 AM UTC
A Crude Confession
the level of expertise of how he slit their throat would send a butcher and a surgeon to their knees. a mad man, none could abate his impending insanity growing inside of him rapidly. all these blind sighted mice worshipped a killer feigned in modesty and grace. a murderer could neither be a man in rags or a man clad with wealth and class. regardless, their masquerade of charm is as deadly as the knife they wield, leads to their victory of escape, the thought disgusts me. who knew behind your cherry coated lips and hands that are ready to hold would be capable of bringing death.
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Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 7:11 AM UTC
Untitled
Mama, i killed someone-- I cut her throat and drowned her to death. She stabbed me several times and so i choked her. Mama, im afraid; will they know i am the murderer? I buried her body somewhere not far. Now dead men tell no tales. Mama, i killed someone-- I killed her in my poem.
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Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 8:51 AM UTC
Mama, I killed Someone
I know it's one of __them__ one of __them__ has the __knife__ __3__ have been __lost__ 5 __remain__ a __cold__ blooded __killer__ is on the loose with __no__ outside help __we're__ all as good as __dead__ At least that's what I tell __myself__ I was __woken__ in the __night__ __she__ shook me awake "we found __something__" __she__ says I see __him__ with the __knife__ it's covered in __blood__ "__I__ didn't do it I __swear__" he __begs__ saying he had __nothing__ to do with it then __we__ take the __knife__ and give __him__ what he gave __us__ __we__ go back to sleep to search for __help__ in the morning I wake up to see __blood__ on my __hands__ I feel something __cold__ under my pillow I reach and see the __knife__ I clean __it__ and put it where it __used__ to be was __he__ even the __murderer__? __Someone's__ missing I think __he's__ missing know there are only __three__ it's __her__ or __him__ but __who__? I hear a __snap__ __he's__ __dead__ it was __her__! it's just __you__ and __me__ __she__ says an evil __smile__ appears on her face the last thing I __see__
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Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 12:40 PM UTC
******
i am destruction in its own form. i am a gas leak you have never encountered before. i don't tick like the bomb you're used to. i have dangerous hands, they've killed thousands of me. i am a serial killer of self.
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Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 8:35 PM UTC
Asphyxiation
Just as you are different to me, I cannot understand you. Every move you make Every thought, expression That passes across your eyes; They say eyes are the window into the soul But your eyes are expressionless Blank as a stone slate Cold as a stone slate How could you **** someone? Don't you feel guilty? The dark malice hidden away in those beautiful eyes Spur-of-the-moment thoughts, uncontrollable impulses. How did I fall for you? People still ask me, every day. Do you still love her? How do I answer that? All those memories we shared, Every photo taken, I still look back at them, sometimes. And feel the toxic rush of happiness Of fondness, of love. Love for a serial killer. While you comforted me, Gently held me, Assuring me, Everything was going to be alright, You tortured, tore apart others Who were different from me. You're a murderer, a criminal. You took a life, intentional Every move and calculated plan All executed like a falling guillotine. Unstoppable. Deadly. How did I fall for you? People still ask me. I still remember, the memories we shared. Every gentle word and loving touch, Filling me with toxic happiness. How did I fall for you? How do I answer that? The best answer, I think, Is that you were different.
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Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 9:38 PM UTC
different
Robert Clive. He was an agent of the Brutish British, And he brought misery to my Bhaarat.
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Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 12:21 PM UTC
I Shall Remind You Of A Mass Murderer
In the swirling zephyr, The grass dances weakly I heard an escort,– Awaits my way to the Wolf Hall. A triumphant sinister;— My broken pleasure,— How lovely to see thy scraps again.. Such a bounty hunter What the gods want now? Doth not turn me around!— Doth not hang me! If thou loose my ties,— Thou wilt be a murderer of all vines! Spare me!— I am not thy prey; I am not one of Greek's peccant, Please, off loathing my purity! This predator devoured me.. The ****** of his dark matter, stabbed me.. The mob held me captive,— by net traps The culprit lies next to me— Acted one alike raw; then I was sacked, I felt the bethel was mocked,— But my Lord won't despise me. A paralyzed arrest screeched me I was stroke— by a vermin quenched for meat.. Thou art the most cherished It is still me.. Scattered with mud, Dressed in a blanket; Hoping to kiss thee Bend for belief,— and not forgiveness Wherefor thy body shivers? Thy cup is condensing, Lips ill-looking; Red flames changing blue— Am I still the hue? I sensed— Thou fell into the pit My shreds, thy lust The roots art on the tip of thy nails! An ancestral plague poisoning whoever sits,— And bridesmaking is a promiscuous habit— To grasp a braided hair,— for an accessory Behold, the lineage of romantic paintings, Whence the bonds turn to heist Looting innocence and staying in history...
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May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 4:13 AM UTC
"Resurrection"– The **** of Thrones
Liberty liberty We chant Peaceful peaceful Our voices rise Seeking a dream Seeking a homeland .... Blood blood Is all I wipe Eyes wide open But they see no light Chasing a dream Chasing a homeland .... Tears tears Sobs and cries Gone forever My beautiful man there is no dream There is no homeland
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Feb 15, 2020
Feb 15, 2020 at 9:40 AM UTC
The price of liberty
it took him two hours to count the bills; would you believe that? hihihi global network brokers state's attorneys distributors transnational trucking not to mention the containers entrepreneurs like him timeless my dear! he descends from a lineage of cold-blooded hawk-eyed eager men quite brutish well but who wouldn't fight for money? you see? moreover as far as i'm concerned we are talking about a well established name here; engraved above monuments nationwide you mustn't worry good people clean reputations don't look behind you don't mind the reflection don't try to feel the hole in the back of your head it's just your blood it will be over you have to die now
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Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 7:45 PM UTC
CRyME
The day arrived. Violence raged in my heart. Thunders deafened my internal voices. Lightning blinded my senses. Magma flowed across my veins. With a single jolt, I decimated all my opponents. With their blood on my face, I looked at the sky, smiling. That day I experienced the sky's real blue.
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Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 5:38 AM UTC
A Murderer
I'm a murderer I already killed so many times I can't even count on my fingers anymore I should be arrested but I'm obeying laws with such elegance no one ever saw But they will judge me Just as I jugded before but they won't **** me Cause I'm the one , cutting me at millions pieces Or maybe more...
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Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 12:54 PM UTC
I'm a murderer
Spare me of the self-hatred tonight Spare me of the pain until sunlight. Spare me of the sad dreams I deserve at least one please. Spare me of the desires and wishes No-one ever knows what their future is. Spare me of the cruelty and sour taste I am tired of every spike of pain my hand creates. Spare me of this disaster Spare me yet I have no master. Who the **** in this world will spare me of the truth? I keep on bitting from life's poisonous fruit. Who'd spare me of the true face of earth? Who'll love the unlovable? We're afraid of the truth Yet we're unpredictable. Who'll spare us all from the war? If we're all our own murderers at the core? Spare me I'm already dying Why should we find the truth if we're all lying?
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Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 1:54 PM UTC
□■▪spare me▪■□
Once, my momma told me to be vigorous She teached me how to fight with manner She told me how to argue in righteous She told me not to be hungry in power. Once, my momma told me how to be a great man She teached me how to do chores She teached me everything in the long run She was my hero, my saviour that I adore. My momma, was there through my whole existence She teached and tell me everything I need to know She became my mother and father without difference She was there everytime I get older and to get a blow. Once, I miss her vanilla pie so I run back home Feeling excited—I rush inside through the door I have a big smile, but in a while my body became a stone I saw it with my two eyes my mother was lying on the floor. I snapped out and came back from my reverie I was about to come closer when I saw my hands dripping with blood Suddenly I saw a mirror with a reflection of me I was holding a gun and a smile curved into my lips before I hear a thud. I woke up, in a small filthy cell I realized I am a prisoner Time flies so fast I couldn't tell I remembered I was a murderer.
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 6:52 AM UTC
A Story of A Boy..
To the man who digs graves, do not do it in the light of day unless you want your secrets revealed. To the man who digs graves, do not miscalculate the placement unless you want someone to find out. To the man who digs graves, do not turn the tables on me unless all will know of your misdeeds. To the man who digs graves, do not tape your victims mouths shut unless you know they are dead. To the man who digs craves do not run unless you what the police to find you. To the men who digs graves, do not leave evidence unless you want to start digging your grave. To the man who digs graves, do not heed my warnings, unless it's too late. Now, start digging.
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
To the Man who digs graves
It's killing me To try not to think of you It's killing me To undo things i used to do with you It's killing me To try not to miss you
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Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
It's killing me
Taking root inside hearts, poisoning people, manipulating their pulse. Time after time, their visions gets blur, they don't know what they are doing that all they do is not their own. Hearts of gold, jewelery emblossoming their minds. Flowers made by money, adorning their heads, they'd do anything to get that extra cash. When they lose everything they have, they break, they wither, they melt down crying bitterly. They counted their lives on money, leaned on them, made out of them, that when they lose it all, all they do is to break down and sob. An ongoing murderer, not yet caught, embraced even, they wear it like a gown. It will not be long till they fall down, down, down.
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Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 7:56 AM UTC
Murderer