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by I Wolf
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1587629
A description of what I did to a friend.
Such a vile creature I am.
The warmth and compassion having long ago faded from this heart of mine.
I sit in waiting for the next victim to arrive, to take pity upon a worthless beast.
They pet and hold, love and care.
Still, I lunge for the throat, cling tightly, awaiting for the final breaths of air to bubble from their lips.
My last victim still twitches, she called me her 'Wicked Puppy.'
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1587629-Wicked-Puppy