Thoughts painted with blood
I ache to see you
My knives are crooning, would
You come out and play?

Your flesh is so soft
As they slice so shallowly
My knives, they hunger! Oft
They feed not

Deeper they go
They cut something vital
Your screaming in pain
I find oh so delightful

Out comes the first
Organs of many
The blades, how they thirst
Your suffering isn't done

Hours pass by
Your cries grow fainter
You wish you could die
I'll make sure you don't

Finally when you
Think you've felt despair
You can't even cry
This is too much to bear

You beg me for
Forgiveness, how fond
Of I'm not
Though I do like the sound
I leave you to rot

I'm sure everyone's felt this way about someone at some point in their lives.