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I picked the house whilst floating down
After travelling to this country town
The air from the house was delicious
As the shouting voices raised were so vicious

The first one I saw was a little girl
And I touched her lightly with a twirl
She would become a victim so sadly true
Getting her taste as sweet and clean will do

Then to the kitchen I did float
Touching the mother as I did gloat
For she would be the dead one
When the deed so evil was done

Then I looked him straight in the eyes
Transferring all the evil to him to despise 
And I whispered in his ear 
All the nastiness I could say so clear

With the scene now set
I settled down whilst he got onto it
The rage within him I had planted
Bubbled and broiled as it was fed

Until suddenly he sprang at her
Beating and straggling as her death occurred
He sat at the table with his head in his hands
Sobbing uncontrollably wondering at his next plans

After a half an hour he went to the shed
And hung himself from the rafter until he was dead
The little girl tried to roust her mother
But her sleep was eternal as no other

I savoured the scene drinking the sadness in
Delighting in it all from beginning to end
And when I had drunk my fill
I left the house moving on to deliver my next pill.

© Paul Warren Poetry

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