He is noone's friend,
never takes the cab, walks home instead.
By the garden he may stop sometimes,
to smell those orange liles,
in his eyes you can tell they brought him old memories,
and in his dark eyes, one can see them bad signs.
Some say his soul to the devil he has sold,
Some say his heart was dark, darker than hell itself.
To free himself from hell, he killed,
to free himself from his darkness, unforgivable deeds he did.
Lens over his eyes, hallowed in jaws,
quiet he may seem, but a killer he was within.
Story ran he killed his ol' lady back up in them woods,
at night on his guitar he played the deadman blues.
He's killed ol' granny Finley,
he's killed poor young willie,
He has no pet and every girl he's met a knife in their hearts he's
set....
He kills out there, he is the greatest sinner,
Every Man's fear,
Every child's nightmare,
Every woman's unseen stalker,
He is...................................
The Dark Hearted Killer.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry By A Traveller
Poesia"Come travel through my mind." A collection of random poems I have composed. These poems are of my innermost thoughts and spirit, a journey through my mind. It might be a bit crazy at times but we are all crazy, so. I dedicate them to all lovers of...
