Fury by Keith Kitchen

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Standing on the edge of reality,
The young man falls out of his bed,
Crawls to his feet and snickers,
Kill the landlord, Kill the landlord.

Saturday Night Live reverberates in his head,
He walks down the hallway, stick of power
to make those he hates dead.
Kill 'em all, Kill 'em all.

It's a thirst he cannot quench,
He falls to his knees to pray,
He's got to kill, the obsession drives him.
Kill! Kill! Kill!

God, he prays, save me, stop me,
I don't want to kill!
I want to stop doing it,
But, I know I always will.

Blood drips from his fingers
Covers his face, shirt and pants.
His victims tried to fight him, stop him,
But he won, now they can't.

A fire lights his eyes,
His dreams of death expand,
There is no control, only stealing of life
As he laughs and wets his pants.

Waking with a cry,
he falls out of bed.
He's three years old
with a murderous fury in his eyes.