A Serial Killer’s Thoughts

This poem revolves around an unnamed serial killer sitting in his cell on death row and what is going through his head before his execution

A cold, dark room

A sporadic, rhythmic dripping

Of tainted prison water

My eyes grow adjusted

To the cold, metallic bars

Separating us, fiends and rogues

 

My actions placed me here

Newspapers claimed “78 VICTIMS!”

Courts declared “HE MUST DIE!”

With the drop of that gavel

My freedom was taken away

Much like I stole the lives

Of all those innocent people

My own selfish ambitions

And perverted love of blood and violence

Put me in this room, where I remain to this day

 

Tomorrow it all ends

And the killer becomes the victim

 

Reviews

[Sheila Kline]

Yes, in the end the killer becomes the victim of his doing - just another body to add to the long list of those already murdered!
Very gripping write!!