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The Art of an Addict
As she hid behind the tree,
Her harsh breathing
That muffled whimpers
Gave me an adrenaline rush
My head pounded
With excitement
As the knife in my hand
Glimmered in the moon light
The thought off knife digging in her
velvety smooth skin,
The sound of the very first drop of blood hitting the floor,
The taste of her salty tears,
The scream of her echoing the empty halls,
As she will wither away in my arms,
For the innocent Angel like her
To be dolled up and kept safely
She will be at peace.
I will make sure she is...
I closed the journal with a thud
A shivers ran down my spine
As I took a deep breath...
(To be continued)