Inkless pages, bloodless body,
as the ink ran out, the corpse stayed still,
Ironic, that the writer left her last note blank,
Ripped her own heart out, and "in" the knife sank.
as the ink ran out, the corpse stayed still,
Ironic, that the writer left her last note blank,
Ripped her own heart out, and "in" the knife sank.
Another pure life, went to waste, another victory, the devil did taste,
It was a murder, performed by her own hand,
as he stood in the background, preparing his stand.
Horrified husband, or doting neighbour this time?
Death, he believed, was his favourite crime,
He called 911, going for the safe neighbour,
Mortified, he pleaded, he was shaken to the core.
Death, he believed, was his favourite crime,
He called 911, going for the safe neighbour,
Mortified, he pleaded, he was shaken to the core.
His cold plan, seemed to play out well,
His role in the murder, did not ring a bell,
A few months later, as the case seemed to close,
A new, beautiful victim, he set out and chose.
His role in the murder, did not ring a bell,
A few months later, as the case seemed to close,
A new, beautiful victim, he set out and chose.
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