A Beautiful Storm Brewed In A Killers Mind
The warm wind blows through the backyard of a killers house. A viewer watches as it goes by, mental yet only in his mind. He sees as if everyone else is blind. The rain has never been so hard, breaking all the glass as it plummits toward the ground. He watched and watched but never heard a sound, laughing silently in his head, knowledge overwhelmes his body and his thoughts. He never speaks to anyone but himself. The storm is what he sees when he's all alone. Pulling in victims from the cold. They would never know what went on in his mind. His thoughts so hidden, impossible to find. A tornado goes through his street destroying everything in sight. The madness unfolds the happiness inside. Hurricanes and tidal waves all a beautiful painting as he tears out a victims insides. There is no light shining on him. His thoughts not to kill you are hanging on a limb blown away by the wind then covered in ash, descriptive yet uncertain how long it is going to last. He passed away one summer night but still he watches when the rains come and he is never going to leave. Written February 25th, 2002 © on Feb 25 2002 08:54 AM PST 0 • 10
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"The warm wind blows through the backyard of a killers house...."