A/N: Hey, this is a revised version of my orginal poem.

He's always precise in what he does,

He drives to her house in the dead of night,

Quietly sneaks into her bedroom,

Quickly blindfolds, ties her down, gags her, and undresses her.

He stares at her body:

So young,

So pure,

So clean,

So untouched,

And he smiles.

He feels lust,

He wants her,

And he wants her bad.

He would go to the ends of the earth to have her.

He wastes no time getting started.

She awakes with a jolt,

She is scared, confused and unable to move.

Finally he is finished.

"I'm sorry, it will all be over soon."

He draws his knife out of its sheath and plunges it into her heart.

She screams in agony,

Blood spills out of her chest, the sheets soaking it up like a new sponge.

Her body becomes limp and lifeless.

He uses her blood to create what he considers his masterpiece,

His calling card on the wall, above her body, where everyone can see it.

Two emotions play on the face,

happiness, and sadness.

The face is smiling, but the blood dripping from the eyes make it seem like it is crying

Before going he rids her of her bonds, and plants a kiss on her head.

He leaves as quickly and as quieltly as he came.

He feels no regrets for what he has done because,

He will do it again.