Confession - 4

Standing there out in the open,

An actor on blood-painted stage;

My business too bloody to gage --

Her young body twisted and broken,

(I must have attacked in a rage)...

I had to quit standing there, frozen, 

Or I'd wind up a bird in a cage. 

Who was she, this girl I had ended,

To deserve such a horrible fate?

And why was I out here so late,

But to carry out deeds most demented?

She died in so ugly a state

From the fury with which I'd descended, 

And now there was no time to wait.

I sprinted back home like a missile

(I needed to get to my truck), 

My panic was starting to sizzle --

I couldn't be no sitting duck.

At that, my neck hair was a-bristle,

My clothing was covered in muck;

Outside, it had started to drizzle,

I was soaked, and I felt like a shmuck.

I went back to gather her body, 

And saw all the pain I'd imbued;

Her murder was sloppy and crude,

A pity, for she'd been a hottie. 

I stripped her right down, almost nude,

And felt the slight urge to be naughty,

But couldn't do something so lewd.

I rolled up her body in plastic

To keep it dry, out in the rain;

Scared to the point of insane,

I hadn't thought out any tactic,

My head was exploding with pain,

I knew I had done something drastic,

And knew it would happen again.

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 - © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.