The march of the greats?

Tortured and beaten, murdered then eaten

These are the findings from books I am reading

Tearing up anyone from all to sundry

What if I end up like Theodore Bundy

 

Outside perfection, inside rejection

Breaking down safety for my own protection

Put my restraints to the ultimate test

What if I end up like crazy Fred West

 

Faster and faster these thoughts they keep coming

A theme tune of murder, is that what I’m humming

Building up to a crescendo of drama

Will I become the next Jeffrey Dahmer

 

Chewing my words so I keep them all in

Confessing my sanity, never my sin

Living in darkness almost every day

Should I now change my initials to read B.T.K

 

What’s living inside, must I now run and hide

I can’t suffer these rules that my fears have applied

Increasingly dark and disturbingly shady

Just fifty percent of ol’ Hindley and Brady

 

A million thoughts in my head start to hatch

Thinking up ways for untimely dispatch

Removing all clues so there’s no way to trace me

Did this run the mind too of dear John Wayne Gacy

 

A policeman emerges, steps from the red mist

And handcuffs are forcibly snapped to my wrist

A torrent of bodies and lifetime of rapture

All led up to my inevitable capture

 

Perhaps I’ll get life or maybe I’ll hang

But I hope they shoot me – go out with a bang

For all the lives I took, by means of my stealth

The only one I really killed was myself

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