Her head

In the dead of night, her screams cut through,
He wanted her head, his desires grew.
She begged and pleaded, tears streaming down,
But he was a monster, wearing a cruel crown.

"Open your mouth," he demanded in rage,
She refused, trapped in his nightmarish stage.
With a glint in his eye, he plunged deep and hard,
Her chest now a canvas for his sinister art.

Blood flowed freely, a river of red,
But he only cared for the prize of her head.
Her lifeblood drained, his excitement soared,
In her final moments, his darkness roared.

He held her head high, a trophy of dread,
In the shadows, he laughed at the lifeless, the dead.
No remorse, no pity, just a heart full of sinister bends,
A wicked soul lost, where the night never ends.