Him

Dark circles form under his eyes,
Lids puffy from the smoke of burning flesh.
Dilated pupils view the mirror’s reflection of evil,
As he gloats at his hideous disguise.

Sweat beads glide down his oily skin,
Lines form in the coating of dirty filth,
A turned up collar hides the ghoulish smile,
While his mind plans his next act of sin.

Long, thin fingers run the length of the knife,
His own blood attesting to its sharpness,
Nervous twitches as he grips the handle tight,
Anxious to use it once again to take another life.

Slipping out the creaky door into the dark of night,
His excited breath forms of veil of mist around him,
A fiendish shadow closely follows as he goes,
Formed from the glow of the dim solitary street light.

A motion catches his attention and he focuses on his prey,
Silently approaching his victim from behind,
Cold and calculating, remorse does not exist,
To him there is no thinking twice, he knows no other way.

He never heard him coming, never saw his face,
No time to even scream as the blade found his neck,
Blood sprays profusely and coats the killer’s hands,
He licks his fingers as he snickers over death’s embrace.

What drives someone to kill another solely on a whim,
To take a life and feel no guilt, a sick and twisted hobby,
I wish I had the answer to break me from this curse,
For no one knows my horror, that he is I and I am him.