More

Washing the blood off his hands,

Wearing that demented smile,

Thinking back to his mos recent victim,

Of how they screamed in agony,

And of how their blood spurted and poured out of them.

"More." He said gazing into the reflection of his bloodied face,

Smiling all the more,

Like a madman at a buffet,

Only the buffet was potential victims;

And for him,

That's what life was really like:

A killing buffet

"More."

- Michael Hall