Do you know what its like,
to have a killer in your house,
a murderer in your bed,
a life-taker in your dreams.

Everyday he comes home,
his hands as red as your nail polish,
his eyes filled with death.

I ask him,
what happened?

Bad idea.

He goes silent,
his thoughts unheard,
his memories unshared.
He walks away,
and you know not to ask him again.

Your afraid,
to sleep,
to look away,

to leave him.

You don't know when he'll strike,
he might turn against you,
he might target your loved ones,
so you stay clear,
and don't get him mad.

You love him,
He loves you.

The only thing tearing your bonded hearts apart,
is his gory past.

As you stare into his eyes,
you see love,
blocked by death.
He wants to shine,
to let it go,
but if he quits,
he dies.

He is stuck in a never-ending job,
it doesn't pay money,
it pays horrible memories,
the fear in your targets eyes,
the sweat pouring off his face,
his hands up in surrender.
but you have to do it.

One swift swipe,
his body becomes limp,
he falls face first,
blood stains the scene,
you clean up and leave.
With the victims eyes peering into your soul.