Macy was but a little kid, when labeled "psycho"
A dandy girl with a daisy to a craze.
Chasing flees every morning, from her bloodied wound.

"Crazy Macy" they say, she has told of her doomed tales, always dancing to the tunes of our deaths, as we fall victims to her maze.

"Tasty Macy", her head coated with their screams as she slashes them free from their sleep.

Macy always knew about her demons, as she fought them always creeping to her dreams.

We were told about the troubles of "crazy Macy", of how she was a sweet girl before turned stale.

She killed not for the sheer of it, she never believed it as murder, she told of how they all begged for a relief.

They wanted it she said, with no memories of their cries, she only saw their joys.

"Crazy Macy", believed herself to be chosen, to free the tortured from their pains, "she did them good"she thought, "she has always done them good".

All she wanted was a listening ears, they never listened, her only sin was to be heard.

"Hasty Macy", a fidgety mess, still paranoid of her shadows, has always been in over her head, never of this world, she was lost deep in the abyss of her own thoughts.

"Mental Macy", a psychotic killer, painting her tales with her victims blood, she was but a horrific myth, eating up the night as she seeks for her next feast.

All she ever wanted was to tell her side of the story, her parents never listened, and I watched her make them listen, chopping them into tiny pieces, as she rants out, using their blood for an ink, knowing well "I" was next.

"Daisy Macy", her scent like the daisies, she was but a cheerful kid, who had lost her balance, falling off the track of reality.

© Jessiepinkss