Mentality Of A Murder

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All it took was a single stab

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All it took was a single stab....
Who would have thought...
that little stab would be the onslaught of my descent...into utter madness?

I.... I don't know how to stop...I don't think I can, I don't think I even want to.

It's a whole process, a routine, a twisted game...
From the moment I draw my blade...something inside of me...just snaps...
I lose all control. I succumb to the bloody urges.

I find sick pleasure in plunging my dagger into my victims' warm flesh...watching that rich red nectar splatter all over me....it's invigorating!

And don't get me started on the faces they make as they writhe in anguish, begging for their lives...It's a thrill, a sight to behold!

And then when I finally see the lifeless body drop to the ground...something about it...IT JUST REALLY GETS ME GOING!

No matter how many times I do it, I NEVER get tired of it. It's so addictive! Once you start, you just can't stop. You begin to CRAVE that feeling, that satisfaction...it becomes a sport, a hobby. A  fill to the void that eats away at your soul.

However, despite these overwhelming desires...I do want to repent for my sins deep down inside...one day...just one day....
I might give up the knife. Whether it be on my own, or whether it's pried from my cold dead hands...

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