SICK

SICK

A Poem by Aysia
"

READ.

"
I can't help myself.
I can't stop the urge.
No matter how much I try,
Swelling my sin, I surge.

Her pretty face stares up at me,
Her glassy bright blue eyes unblinking.
Her snapped neck, her tears of blood,
In my pride I feel myself sinking.

I never have a worry for
They never see my presence coming.
Like the wind, I sneak up,
My eyes mad, my mouth foaming. 

They are like my little puppets,
Their mangled joints moved by my strings. 
They waltz across the stage, alive,
But dead. Deader than my playthings.

Stashed in the basement, is where I,
Alive as one, plays around.
The sick sound of a neck snapping,
Excites me. Thrills me. Spellbound.

For I know that all is not well,
For I am a light, and I flick
On and off, dark to bright,
A deep dark laugh. I am sick. 

© 2012 Aysia


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Reviews

i love it

Posted 6 Years Ago


Aysia

6 Years Ago

thank you
biggsteve

6 Years Ago

your welcome
Sounds like fun. I really like this poem, it was excellent.

Posted 6 Years Ago


Aysia

6 Years Ago

Thank you :)
Ethale Captor

6 Years Ago

No problem.

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Added on December 11, 2012
Last Updated on December 11, 2012
Tags: sick, serial killer, physcopath, aysia

Author

Aysia
Aysia

MS



About
I'm very shy. A budding writer. Grammar freak, despite my use of fragments in this bio. A photographer. Young in age, but old in soul. Sort of. I consider myself an abstract writer (as in the art.. more..

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