Sixteen Letters From The Killer [Fictional Poetry]

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Dear Adalaide Harrison,

Upon recalling our first encounter,
On which one of us approached the other
I may not remember,
But we were three when we acknowledged the existence of each other.
You were known as Ada then,
A three-letter-name for a three-year-old,
But when one has no way of exceeding the limit of sixteen,
Is death not the ideal medicine?

We were both alone and ignored,
Creating not one spectacle for the adults to behold,
But you had me and I had you,
And that was enough for the satisfaction of us as toddlers.
Once upon a time, I did love you, my dearest 'Ada',
When of the invincible might of our fatal union we were both unaware;
And to destroy that bond of ours which was once begun,
I wouldn't hesitate to do that which has to be done.

Yours,
The Destroyer.