Home » Poems » Criss Tripp » The Monster

Notes About The Poem

Back when the hit television Showtime series, Dexter, had ended it's final season; I immediately became lost and felt a void in my life. So with me, being a pretty big fan of the show, and having an undying desire to write, I began to understand that I needed to pay homage to the best show ever to come to Television.

The Monster

He lets the monster, out to play;
He's killed so many, in different ways.
He likes to wrap them, up in sheets;
He likes to make them, realize their feats.
Not because the job was good;
But because their inner demons could.
The victims that fall, right by his hand;
They're the ones, who do what they can.
In order to fulfill, that inner need;
They'll go about, their dirty deed.
Never to suspect a final bet;
He injects m99, right into their neck.
As his victims fall unconscious;
Lifeless, Into his arms.
A small little voice echoes;
"Don't get caught".
The monster welcomes;
Their final embrace.
As he takes one small cut;
On the side of their face.
With one drop of blood,
And one glass slide;
His one sharp knife,
Takes their life as they die.
With knife buried deep,
Into their chest;
They close their eyes,
For their final rest.
As another body,
Gets cut into pieces;
Theres plenty of glad bags,
To go through the seasons.
As the monster takes,
Another victim;
He boards his boat,
While they come with him.
After alls said and done,
And a body drops to the sea;
He turns around smiling,
For he too fulfilled his need.
As he cracks a beer,
Relieved, it's on ice;
He raises his drink,
To one hell of a night.

addictionassonancecharacterevilmurderfree verse

♡Like0

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.