Monday, 18 April 2016


(Part 18 focuses again on our old friend, the killer.
Dropping more hints onto his nature)

Curling in a corner
For a good half a hour
Or so later,

Its next kill proved
That traumatic
It couldn’t bear
To run away
Once it had fed

Let alone have the strength
To run away

Instead dragging itself
Into a shadow on the canal
Until it heard
The usual scream
That usually greeted
His handiwork

Over floating with guilt
With each drop of blood
He ripped out of the lad’s throat
Knowing he should have just
Put them out of their misery

Full well knowing
There was nothing
He could do about it. 

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