Diabetic Psychopathy

He was
 sick of her.
He was 
bored 
and 
restless.
The tramps 
at work
stimulated 
his thirst
for new
 conquests.
He thought 
to himself:
This diabetic 
is taking up 
so much of 
my time.
I'm sick of 
her whining.
And the needles 
she's poking.
God must 
be joking.
So he 
thought deeply.
About 
ridding himself
of someone 
so sweetly.
I must
 formulate a plan.
It's my 
time to shine.
My needs 
must be met.
I don't 
have time 
for this 
sickness.
But I 
must operate
ever 
so sneakily.
Those 
vials
 in the frig.
Keep 
this sicko 
alive.
I must 
get free.
I have 
better prospects.
And better 
games to play.
Then an Aha
moment came.
What if I 
 replace 
her insulin
with 
salt water
 instead.
She'll go into
 a coma
with no 
one the wiser
And I can play
The greiving 
boyfried
at work
and get 
sympathy
sex
 from the
 vulerable
and down
trodden
then when
I catch one
I can 
play this
sick game
all over
again
It's a win
win for me
all over 
again
What a
plan
I'll impliment
it tomorrow
and I'll
be free
to be
ME
Psychopathic
AND 
Unholy

 (This is fiction)
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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