Killer Poems: Jack the Ripper

I travel the night

Stench always in the air

I see a woman, turning darkness to light

Blonde, beautiful, silky hair

Luscious skin, pale and white

Like snows from my childhood

Filling with cold and joy

Though, I've always preferred crimson.

That skin

So perfect

It's unnerving

I can't handle it

I wait till no one is around

Then gag her so she won't make a sound

I take her to my place of blood and gore

I throw her to the floor

She cant react

The binds are latched

I get a scalpel

Prepare to slash.

Oh crimson

Such a pretty color

One of passion

Better than any other.

I will tatter the beautiful white

And do so with such delight

I prepare the knife

If she didn't look like art to prepare I'd make her my wife.

My wife didn't like my art

She complained that there was too much red

And overall, it looked dreary and dead

But I loved her

Enough to sever her head

And what lead

She became my masterpiece

Until I was reintroduced to my niece.

Now I have met this woman

Beauty incomparable

The wait is unbearable

I drive the blade into her stomach

Her life begins to plummet

I take the paint

And rub it on her skin

Warmth and happiness appears within

Hours of work

I'm done

I need to leave

No time to grieve

I hear their footsteps outside

I have to run and hide.

I escape

They were far too late

I walk for a short time

I feel sublime

My heart throbbing with pleasure

It is beyond measure

I continue to walk

Until I hear people talk

I spot a whore

I have something in store

She decides it's late and begins to walk home

Not realizing it will soon be her tomb

I follow her

I'm the infamous, anonymous, Jack the Ripper.