His Perfect Collection...

Droplets of crimson fall from his fingers...The craving hunger for death still lingers...

Droplets of crimson fall from his fingers,
The craving hunger for death still lingers
Ghostly pale skin tainted with sin
With only the shadows to call his kin
Shredded limbs and contorted faces
Torn breasts and eyes gouged with laces
Night cloaks the horrific display
His tortured collection of untold dismay
Forever their beauty concealed in his room
The unheard screams as they reached their doom
Trapped in a nightmare of murderous dreams
Their angst-ridden souls muffled with screams
Their bodies once bought for sexual pleasures
His madness pushed them to horrendous measures
With one last look at his prized corpse dolls
He closes the door ignoring their calls
He goes to hunt for his current affection
To add her to his perfect collection