Philip Fleming Poet I do not know?

The Ripper's Grudge

Creeping through the dark of night, with a quiet plot
Searching for an innocent one, to death they shall rot
Reflections only worthy to the filth in the earth’s mud
Moonlight gleaming off my blade stained with blood

Craving to lie to rest the wenches of these dirty streets
Watching intently, dancing to my victim’s heart beats
Tainting the lives of those they prey on, without a care
How I long for this, to gaze into their cold dead stare

I’ll take from them the parts I desire, trophies I’ll hold
The darkness I use as my cloak, stirring ways so bold
Leaving them, dead and frozen in a beautiful slumber
You’re no longer safe; every one of you has a number

A phantom I have become, with not a trace I will leave
Gliding like a ghost, steps of silence on this dyer’s eve
One by one, pitiful victims fall to my unforgiving hands
As a plague I will move, sweeping through these lands

Now that I’ve got my fill of your deaths, I’ll disappear
Leaving behind a tainted path riddled with dreadful fear
A ripper they call me, such a fitting name for this judge
Now this world will sweeten my acts in eternal grudge

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