VALERIE LYNN WRITES, BUTCHERED

BUTCHERED

He does not know your name
He does not know your age
He does know what he wants
He wants to take you away
Lurking from a distance
Blending in with a crowded room
Seeking his prey
His eyes studying your every move
It was too easy
How he followed you home
Now he is closing in on you
With eyes cold as stone
First he peers into your window
Then checks the locks on both doors
To his amazement the back one was not secured
So he enters expecting to score
Murder is on his mind tonight
As he quietly creeps up each stair
He puts on his leather gloves
While his victim is unaware
There is no eyewitness
As he sneaks up from behind
He puts one hand over your mouth
Now it is time
Your body thrashes about
As you attempt to scream
With one hand he grabs both of yours
Living out his paramount fantasy
He turns you around then pushes you onto the bed
He wants to make sure you can see his face
Your innocent eyes widen in shock
As he ties your arms and legs to the frame
Now unable to utter a whisper
Your body is frozen in place
He takes out a butcher knife
Soon to leave no trace
He has no desire to rape or maim
Only to inflict pain
As he pierces your soul
Ready to begin the game
He brushes the knife
In between your thighs
Then presses it against your neck
As you begin to cry
The tears do not persuade his decision
They only make him mad
The rage builds up inside
As he begins to brutally stab
At the end of the night
The total count of wounds
Including a sliced throat is over 102
The dead body left to rot is you
© 2014 Valerie Lynn