The Trophy Case

In the dark of night, he walks alone 

To the graves of those he's taken home 

A twisted mind, a heart of stone 

This serial killer, he's all alone 

With a sick delight, he dances near 

The resting place of those he brought to fear 

He revels in the power he holds dear 

And the memories of what he has done here 

The graves whisper secrets from the past 

Of the victims whose lives couldn't last 

And he smiles, feeling fulfilled at last 

For he knows his haunt, and the dread that is cast.

The wind blows cold, but he feels no chill 

For in his mind, he's in control still 

His presence felt, with a fearsome thrill 

And the graves shiver, at his eerie shrill 

With a final bow, he takes his leave 

Until next time, when he'll come and breathe 

His evil presence, with a wicked ease 

And continue his haunt, with such disease.