I serve the thirst for my penance with torture. For those who righteously deserve their bloodstained fate and too myself for the crime of existing. I hate myself, but committing suicide is the coward’s way out. I’m not a coward, I am a malignancy. I stand with disgust, stained in the red of pain, clotted on my mutated hands.
This is a message to all those who
Guilty
I will cross your path.
I shall flay your skin off at a snail’s pace just to hear you suffer. I want you to languish for my sins. Trust no one. Your fate is mine, murderer, a sinuous fabrication, but you’ll get what you deserve. Won’t you?
I am your predator. Fear me before you fear yourself.
©️ written ~ 2020. Jacob Pickard.2026
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