ghastly

Permanent death

He fed off fear in the weak;

He showed no sympathy for the meek.

There was an empty space in his soul

And only blood could make him whole.

He would suck life from the living just because he was bored

Nothing could stop him not even the Lord.

The victim would always scream in horror and despair

Every loved one at the time was unaware.

Trembling and shaking their eyes filled with tears

She had no emotion other than her fears.

Then it happened, murder can’t be undone

He did what he always did he had to pack up and run.

The scene was always brutal, cruel, and deadly

He unstained the walls of blood while humming a medley.

This was his life and never failed to cover his tracks

But it wasn’t long until he stroke again with his axe.

 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem I had to right for my English class that had to create a "macabre tone" 

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