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He looks at me
like he wants me
to die.
His skin is white,
white as the deadly snow
in the night.
His lips are ripped
ripped as in cut.
He wears all black
to cover his body
to hide from the truth.
He always holds a white rose
to show that he was once good
but now has sank into the sorrows
and shadows of evil.
He comes for me at night
when it is pitch black
and midnight.
He bolts across the room
stares at me directly like I am next
and do you know what I mean by next?
The next one
to feel his pain
to discover what happened to him
and his past.
He butchered his wife to pieces
buried her beneath the red fern tree
growing ever so brightly.
He chopped his two poor children to bits
putting the pieces inside the attic
of his house.
What caused him to lose his mind
I wonder?
He is now only a shadow
in the night
still zooming around
visiting the place
that once was his home.
He shall not rest until
justice is brought
and peace is made
for that reason
peace may never happen.
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