Investigating Jack the Ripper - the Bait

He cuts throats too, my dear friend Ramsay! How can I sing myself to comfort, Sing wonderfully, as my father brags, With a cut throat!? Perhaps the draining of my fluids shall be our killer's lullaby, As he sleeps soundly with the soothing flow Of my newly dead blood! With an uncertain sigh, I now stand alone, quaking! Cruel thought imagining despairing fate How could Ramsay have so much faith in a cowardly girl When faith is simply what she lacks? She is out to find an evil one unseen, A twisted fiend that can be he that passes—or he! Where shall she go from here? Surely she cannot stand in this spot forever; The rain has already chilled the coward to the bone, When all she has on for warmth, the foolish child, Is a thin old sweater? But, ah, her bone is to be chilled once more, And the weather, I'm afraid, will not be the cause. . . -this is a dark soliloquy of a character in an unfinished play about Jack I wrote... maybe a couple years ago? I gottah put a date on these things! Haha-