Crimson Glory

It's in the darkness that he lies,

Waiting for the one, he sits and he spies.

Through the window he's given a quick peek

Of the soft, sweet skin that makes him go weak.

He smirks and he sneers as he waits for the moment

When he can begin his sadistic event.

She doesn't know what will eventually occur,

In her mind there is nothing but faint images travelling around in a blur.

He's up and out of his car in a flash

Making his way to her door in a mad dash.

Through the unlocked door he plunges,

Running towards her, he swiftly lunges.

With nowhere to go and no one around,

She falls hard and fast upon the ground.

No scream can escape her petrified lips

As he tears at her clothes and they begin to rip.

Off goes her shirt, pants and shoes,

She's flings around, lashing out without a clue

That whatever she does, however hard she fights,

Nothing will cause this odd man to take flight.

With wide eyes and a soft 'Oh,'

Darkness engulfs her, and she gladly lets go.

There is nothing so sweet to this peculiar gentleman

Than watching his next victim let loose one last spasm.

He laughs long and loud as he takes in her cold body

Lying and bleeding out on the soft brown mahogany.

Leaning down he lets the flowing life wash over his tongue,

Tasting the sweet crimson of someone so young.

With quick work he pulls out his knife once more,

Savoring its beauty through the blood and the gore.

With a profound grunt he presses it against her breast,

Enjoying the feel of it slicing through the pale flesh.

Again and again the cold steel ravishes her skin,

Leaving mark after mark in its metallic grin.

Hours pass by and he's still at work,

Nothing can encompass the pain and the hurt.

The joy rings inside of his soul

As he finishes his art, and accomplishes his goal.

Getting up he looks away,

Unable to view what he has done that day.

To some he is a vicious creature,

One that is dire need of a preacher,

But despite what you think you may know,

No one despises him more for this horrible show

Than how much he hates himself, this is his worst low,

One which he cannot escape, one that will only grow.

Over and over he repeats this terrible sin

Unable to control himself, unable to win.

And over and over he cuts at their skin,

Causing him pleasure and making his head spin.

Despite how he tries,

And despite their desperate cries,

He hacks and he whacks until there's nothing left

Of those innocent people, they lay bereft.

But nothing he does can equal up to the first,

Most would agree that it was his worst.

He stabs and he stabs, letting them all die,

Unable to continue to live with the lie.

He know what he is, and he knows what he's not,

But he continues to leave them, hoping they'll rot.

He has reached the absolute continuity of his crime,

Not knowing that he has just run out of time.

They are after him now with furious glory,

Wanting to end the sad fate I've expressed in this story.

Red and blue flash as five of them take out that one man

Who had started the havoc with one small, simple plan…