Dark poems

Pretty Scene

She sits on her stool in front of her vanity,
Brushing her hair and humming a tune,
The feel of darkness and evil is thick in the air,
Yet it goes unnoticed by her,
Out of the shadow I step,
My most prized knife in my hand,
An insane smile on my lips,
I step behind her, raising my knife,
The blade follows a rhythm,
Blood files everywhere and screams fill my ears,
Silence,  
The psychotic laughter spins around the bloody room,
Blood dripping down my face, chest, arms, everywhere,
My hair swinging limply,
Little droplets of blood falling from my coated hair,
I take the blade and lick it clean,
Moaning in pleasure from the metalic taste,
With a crazyed look in my eye,
I withdraw myself from the bloody, slashed limbs,
Swinging my arms, knife in hand, I skip away from my pretty scene