He holds a log of names
The first and the last
Middle in between the two
Many from his past
Their insults that he holds true
Let us begin the games
Madness plagues his mind
While they are chained up inside
Crazed laughter echos throughout
He begins the genocide
All to get rid of the doubt
That was in their minds
Going down the list with checks
He slashes with no regrets
As soon as the bottom is reached
He will leave with no formal speech
With death that fulfills his pride
He commits suicide
This collection of death
Will forever be blessed
A little poem story for everyone. Kind of dark and odd, but I hope you enjoyed reading it.
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Itarow Krähe 