I turned on the news,
only to get confused.
"Another killer on the loose—"
guess that's me. I cannot refuse.
"Girl killed with a knife—"
that experience was a delight.
"Police are on their way,"
that's not really a dismay.
I cut my vegetables with the knife I used.
I, a psychopath, am accused—
of murder. Police can search, accuse, and shout—
but they'll never find who killed her. No doubt.
YOU ARE READING
𝕬 𝕾𝖆𝖉 𝕻𝖔𝖊𝖙 𝕴𝖓 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊
PoetryThis book is a collection of poems I've written that explore sadness, heartbreak, bittersweet moments, and romance-mostly romantic ones.
