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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1635085-Diary-of-a-Serial-Killer-Pt-Three
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #1635085
Inside view into the mind of a serial killer.
"Diary of a Serial Killer, Pt. Two


The Girl Behind The Fence

She sees me.
She stares at me.
She doesn’t judge,
She just wants to pet my dog.
He can only lick her hand though.
Not even a normal fence.
Chain link.
Allowed to see the whole world-
Everything she can’t have, like those flowers
In the meadow behind her house.
She can only watch them grow.

Three years old, I’d guess.
I call her Kelly, in my mind.
Big eyes, fresh new flower dress.
A head full of ringlets medusa would be proud of, brown.
Glad there wasn’t a “do not feed the child” sign on the fence, I
Checked with Mom, on the phone, who waved her OK.
Then I gave her some jelly beans,
Soon found out she liked them all… Well,
Not cinnamon.

Two years swim by, waving as they go.
She only likes red jelly beans now,
Scooby shirt as ragged as the blanket she drags,
Mom still on the phone.
April (I found out) has a bruise on the back of her leg,
Mommy is wearing a lot of makeup for a stay-at-home
At seven in the morning.

At 7 years, her wide eyes have started to hollow,
And she doesn’t look at what color I give anymore.
She just stuffs her face like she’ll never eat again.
Her hair is pulled back with an orange ribbon,
And everything about her about her is perfect,
Even her laces - “I tied them myself!”
Mommy is holding the phone with her left hand today.
I think she hears me tell April about a park down the block.
         The next time I walk by,
Mommy is at the mailbox. “That park…”
Soft voice.
         “Take her with you?”

April is really nine and a half
She tells me. This is her first “big girl date”
She also tells me with a scoop of
Every flavor ice cream they have in front of her.
She picks cotton candy as the winner.
I buy a gallon of that, and one of
Vanilla for mommy. So small for nine years old.
I wish…

The next time I see her, her arm
Is in a cast. She doesn’t bring
Ice cream home from our “dates”
Anymore. She doesn’t look in my eyes,
And when I put a hand on her shoulder,
She flinches. When I help her eat
Her ice cream, she smiles again, and
The whole world starts to dance.
We plan.

Next time I bring wire cutters. This time,
It’s dark.

When the cast is gone, I wait until Mom
Won’t see me. We’re walking down the street,
Hand in hand toward the shelter, and she yells,
But not for her daughter-
“Take me with you!”

We do.



Fear Dot Sketch
By Danny Polter, 24

Some people want to be scared,
And
Deep
Down,
Fear is the most beautiful of all evils.
It can seduce in a way that lust cannot,
It has an almost pure appeal that no other temptation carries.
It’s a drug for the innocent, not the thieves,
And can be just as addicting as caffeine.

The most beautiful emotion in the world to watch is fear.
The screams and shrieks may be the only honest sounds
Many give up to the world before their death.
People lie every day, but fear is honest.

Fear has no boundaries. Someone’s fear may include prejudice,
whereas another person’s deepest concern will not have anything to do about the opinions of people. Anyone can be afraid of anything.

Fear,
Is a beautiful creature.
It is wild and unstoppable,
Like the wind.
Sometimes you know it’s coming
Because you can see the clouds or the swaying of the trees,
Like a first romance gone wrong,
It sweeps you off your feet before you have a chance to think.
It can come from anything, anywhere, unexpectedly,
And begin and end without warning.

The best chance of survival is to buckle in for the ride and hold on
To your common sense
As long as possible.
Some can fight it, some cannot.
Each person has fears that cater to their own abilities and needs.

Fear is my profession,
And today,
You are my customer.


Regrets
7-19-09

Smile like it doesn’t hurt,
Grin like that burn your getting doesn’t sting.
You want to know that I’m the one,
You want to know the prize is worth the fight.
If it is I don’t know what youre crazy thinking-
The prize is only the same kind of pain you’re getting used to. 
If you like the bruises you see in the mirror,
Scratches in the shower and there’s
Welts crawling up your legs -
They’re breeding by the hour,
If you like walking off the stiffness between your ears,
If you like the ache of knowing it’s all
For someone who could put you out like that,
Without blinking.

Then congratulations…
You’ve found your life.

Prophecy   
10.14.08
Danny Polter

the things you allow to surround you
tell more about you than anything,
more than the clothes you wear,
         Damn handmedowns.
the things you say,
         Learned behaviors from relations.
the places you go,
         where else is there to go in this run-down town?
the way you play
         A person always plays to the desires of their companion to get their needs met.
each card at the table,
         It was chance that she got 21.
the way you eat,
         Holding that fork to her is like holding a shovel, she’s so tiny.
it tells more about you
         Yes, I swear it does.
than the music you hear;
         Did your dad listen to that station, too?
your dance to its beat
         Some people have a gift, some are epileptic.

your life is told before you see
The smoke from the fire in her eyes.
by what you hold dear and
Holds him captive, does it not?
the way you flee each thing you've placed around yourself
unconsciously. It tells how much you love hurting yourself,
or if you care for your hearing, your body, your love, or life
or ever your future is told by the things you leave around.
if you leave a bad relationship in your surrounding, you tell before you know of your own
miserable future, and you stew in it.
leave your mother in your apartment, and you tell before your time of how your secrets
are not your own.

life is hard, but people make it harder on theirselves. your surroundings tell the most,
that is my claim, my prediction..... one day you're going to miss me,
~ghost

© Copyright 2010 Emily Tade (julialookalike at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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