Sonnet of a Serial Killer
It started with the collecting on streets,
Little dead animals killed by traffic
Day and night searching for death on the beat.
It went wrong when it turned pornographic.
Sometimes the fresh flesh could cause arousal,
The divide between right and wrong did warps.
My attraction oft was somewhat spousal,
Through the masturbation of decayed corpse.
Hunger for live game incited the hunt
It brought me on the prowl, pursing prey.
Surfacing my masked warm and friendly front,
Acting eyes did not my darkness betray.
I appeared a victim feeble and meek,
A mere costume to snare the truly weak.
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