The rumbling thunder, the bloodied knife
the rustling breeze, the dead wife.
The noisy siren, the pattering feet
the crazed madman, the silent street.
The hideous mask, the sanity uncertain
the dead night, the drawn curtain.
The barking dogs, the darkened alley
the imaginary help, the hope gone.
The pleading child, the blood dripping
the blood pouring, the deep wounds.
The sirens gone, the street abandoned
the stenching blood, the decaying corpse.
The whitened skin – the reddened hair
the pool widening – the eyes closing
the mouth moaning – the hands clenching
the massacre over, the dead people
the madman smiling, the game… complete.