I will kill you and like it.
The screams of pain I will not hear with the knife buried in your throat.
You are no more than a goat to be sacrifieced at my whim.
My anxiety will ease with each jab of cold steel in your bloated blabs of flesh.
I will be fresh, fresh to live and enjoy my world.
But yours will be cold, cold and dark.
Dark like the abyss that you have imposed on me for so long.
But no longer.
The blood will flow freely as a river washing my darkness away.
And I will walk on in my own world. Free, justified, withour fear or remorse.