"muderer" poems
I was always the invisible one,
Walking like a spirit amongst others,
They would hurt me just for fun,
But no one expected me to become a cOlD bLoOdEd MuRdErEr...
The murders started slowly,
Each night another would be gone,
You could call this unholy,
But when being a mUrDeReR it doesn't matter...
I would sneak into their rooms,
Blooded knife raised and brought down into their stomachs,
Afterwards they would be buried in their tombs,
The MuRdErEr would smile insanely whilst being invisible...
Eventually the murderer would be caught,
Taken away to never see the light of day,
They would ask me questions and what I thought,
But all I said was,
'I bEcAmE a CoLd BlOoDeD mUdErEr...'
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
All hallows ever,
And I am sitting on the bed,
The bed that is a couch,
With narerly an account,
but surely still,
That Frankenstein will listen,
No morely not,
I am my own with standing,
Yet who we are is who we have repeatedly been,
Muderer's killers, who are we truly, but conglomerates of our free willing,
and lies withunderstood.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 4:01 AM UTC
**You wreak
Of blood.
You muderer!**
I only hurt myself.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 7:46 AM UTC
In vengeance I await for you to come,
Oh my disciples,
He is the man we're looking for,
The atrocious smug I've been waiting for,
Slowly, steadily I will make him pay,
Cut his wrist and slit his nape,
The blood he spilled,
The thousands of people he killed,
Oh God ! I promise you I'll make him pay,
His dark and hideous face,
His target-y gaze,
Don't you worry my dear, he shall pay.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 4:14 AM UTC