I love…

I love to live, and I love to kill.

My nature is to steal the essence of the will.

To see you fade into the picture,

to have you captured in the frame.

I love to kill—

it is my nature, it is my will.

The way I do it will never give you chill.

You know you have today,

but I know, your tomorrow will be taken away.

Don’t sorrow, and don’t hate me, please.

Because I love to be the one

who takes you back.

It is my craft, my purpose, my love.

So take it from me.

I can feel the pressure

that takes your breath away—

let me take it.

I can feel the pain you feel—

let me take it.

I can see the dread in your gaze—

let me take it.

Let me take it, and sleep.

Don’t you love it?

The sinking, sufferless sleep.

Don’t you love it?

If you don’t love me, it’s okay,

because my love is to kill.

Once it’s done, you will love it.

I know it’s not the end, because when you wake up again,

I will show the picture of you that I made.

Look at yourself—don’t you love it?

The sorrow and pain, painted on your old face,

your tired eyes full of dread,

the invisible weight that curls you, instead of looking straight.

Do you love me?

That I let you forget.