The sword point pierces the skin,
Like someone falling trough a sinkhole.
It goes so deep in,
One wonders whether it pierced the soul.
Red drops splatter on the ground.
The sword is drawn without a sound.
Clutching his mortal wound,
The victim wails like a hound.
He drops, his knees hitting the floor.
He falls on the ground, face-first.
The murderer walks towards the door.
But he stops, he must avenge his thirst.
He walks towards the victim,
Sees the large pool of blood.
For this thirst, he needs some liquid.
What better than that red flood?
He puts a hand towards it,
Tries to put it in a cup.
In his hands, it won’t stay.
He proceeds to lap it up.
Blood smeared on his lips,
He does not want to stop.
With the red, salty liquid,
Satisfied, he is not.
Like a cat drinking milk,
Thirstily, he drinks it further.
This is, oh people,
A true bloodthirsty murderer.