She screams loudly, demanding mercy
Howling once more before quieting tersely.
He holds the knife, that possesses her blood
And he smiles: disgusting, full of mud.
The motionless girl lies on the floor,
A stab wound pouring as he kicks her through the door
She lands with a thump on the cool, shocking ground
Her limp body doesn't move, doesn't make a sound.
She can't feel the floor, or hear the thump
She can't see her chest, which is weeping red clumps
He can see her, though,
But can't feel her pain.
He cleans his knife,
Knowing that he'll dirty it again.
