Thesilhouette Stories

Am I the guilty one, with Words on my palms, easing them into The Silhouette's back? No. I'm only human, and fatigue is a human experience. Abstract poem.

They call him a monster. A shadow in the dark. A name whispered on late-night news reports. But HE doesn't kill for chaos , he kills for truth. By day, he is invisible. Just another quiet face blending into the city. By night, he stalks the ones who crave the spotlight most. Influencers. Social climbers. The desperate souls who live for attention. He captures them in the only way that matters through their final silhouette. This is not a story of blood. It is a story of honesty. A confession written in darkness. And if you keep reading, you'll see what the light never wanted you to know.