Blood drips slowly from his gnarled white hands
He wonders where he has been and
who is dead when he arrives back home
that wasn’t when he left
He sits in his chair
Alternately laughing and crying
Bereft at the life he has taken
Thrilled at committing the act
He falls asleep
Images flash through his mind
Both wonderful and horrifying
Sick and twisted deeds of a man forgotten yet remembered
He wakes up smiling
Puts on the kettle, whistles a happy tune
And wonders what he shall do today
To make the world a better place
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