The Confession - 4/13

Standing there out in the open,
An actor on blood-painted stage;
My business too bloody to gage --
Her young body twisted and broken,
(I must have attacked in a rage)...
I had to quit standing there, frozen,
Or I'd wind up a bird in a cage.

Who was she, this girl I had ended,
To deserve such a horrible fate?
And why was I out here so late,
But to carry out deeds most demented?
She died in so ugly a state
From the fury with which I'd descended,
And now there was no time to wait.

I sprinted back home like a missile
(I needed to get to my truck),
My panic was starting to sizzle --
I couldn't be no sitting duck.
At that, my neck hair was a-bristle,
My clothing was covered in muck;
Outside, it had started to drizzle,
I was soaked, and I felt like a shmuck.

I went back to gather her body,
And saw all the pain I'd imbued;
Her murder was sloppy and crude,
A pity, for she'd been a hottie.
I stripped her right down, almost nude,
And felt the slight urge to be naughty,
But couldn't do something so lewd.

I rolled up her body in plastic
To keep it dry, out in the rain;
Scared to the point of insane,
I hadn't thought out any tactic,
My head was exploding with pain,
I knew I had done something drastic,
And knew it would happen again.

---