Scars Of A Black Soul

The Kill

Blood dripping tastefully down the blade. The victim below me is limb and lifeless. I lick the blade with a satisfied smirk upon my face. I can remember the pitiful pleads for me to spare them. I can remember the emotionless look I gave to the victim. I can remember the loud screams as I tore the victim's life from them.  I remember the delicious feelings of tearing flesh and bone with the sharp blade in my hands. My body is so still, my heart is beating so steady, and my mind is so calm. Looking down at my blood stained clothes, I see no evidence for murder, but a souvenir. All of this was my doing and yet, I feel nothing but accomplished.