Seeing as the theme has switched to psychopaths:
Rain, Rain, Go Away...
Rain fell, first slow then with increasing vigour, like the tears of deities for what was to come. And amongst all this angst was a sleek Jaguar car, housing a man that would soon lose himself. For it is when we lose ourselves completely, then we find our true self. With black tinted windows and an idle engine, it stood, just by the town square as a predator would.
He sat stagnant in the leather seat,
Gazing out the blurry window,
The silence was his only beat,
Watching raindrops fall, stream and smoothly flow,
Thinking again and again on continued repeat.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
Always deemed to be litter latter,
Chosen to be last in every matter.
An opulent fragrance in the air,
A decaying lunch on his tongue,
Complexion light and amply fair,
An eldritch sky with a day that’s young.
Thoughts curling and spiralling out of control.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
He must be made of bitter batter,
For his anger was no straightforward matter.
Judged by all with much disdain,
His blood ran cold but also boiled,
Nothing to fester but hate and pain,
Tears were commonplace and in abundance.
With a mind that put him through an endless hell.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
he was going mad, mad as hatter,
all his dreams move, move to break and shatter.
Knife in hand, he was ready,
Off the seat and out of the car,
Rain pouring in torrents and pouring heavy,
Tonight, he would shine like the brightest star,
For his acts would be looked upon by many.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
His ego was growing stronger, fatter,
Stomachs split open, splitter splatter.
A smile etched into his face,
The bloodied instrument at his side,
His task was finished at a good pace,
Waves of ecstasy, red luscious tides.
A testament to his magnificent grace.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
Now they’re running, skitter scatter,
Pure discord, and cacophonous clatter.
Blood, bodies, and guts,
The most beautiful creation,
A canvas full of cuts,
A cull of the population.
What a cheeky man,
One with malice deep at heart,
And so became this plan.
But now that all was done and dusted, he needed to depart.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
With none to commend, and sadly none to flatter,
His deed was to be buried in silence thereafter.
Back in the plush leather seat,
Gazing out the cherry red window,
All that was left was a few tonnes of meat.
The seeds of destruction that he had to sow,
To finally get others to admire his almighty feat.
Pitter patter, jittery chatter.
He is the sinner, so the rain must be later.
Rain, rain, go away,
Because this version of him is here to stay.