Jack The Ripper

With another night of unpassionate procreation done, Strolling down the old English Alley near Buck's Row Within the dreary Victorian London. As I walk under the light of a single lamp's ominous glow, Withering eyes stare in wonder. With gentle music of a waltz and a car heard off in the distance, My throat collapsed to the high pitched snicker of A demented grin from ear to ear. His blade, so cold, brought forth blood like water out a faucet Until Death's cold grip eventually took hold of me.

There she appears, draped in red The next to fall by my art, and my blade is the tool. My bloodlust eyes peer through the shadows Awaiting for the time to strike. Upon entering god's light she will be alike The others that fell before me; dead. With a simple squeeze of the throat And a slash from my repenting blade, she was no more. Now all to do is take what's mine, my trophy For this grand undoing of a corrupted soul born into this world- Her womb shall be mine.