As morning dawned,arrived the police,
Found their killer gone;
Left were a few bones..
‘Long with remains of bodies.
A few limbs, for a start..
A couple chopped lungs;
A few stomachs wrung,
Topped with a fresh heart.
Clearly, this was insane,
A brutal scene of murder;
Their foe, a vivid blur…
A silent, unexpected bane.
The intern meanwhile,
Half way across the earth,
Picked out another flock,
To execute under the sun.
A club of librarians,
Who would hurt them, but the devious?
Though guilty of untold crimes,
They didn’t deserve such gore
At the cost of their lives
Killed by their own methods,
A poetic death for sure,
Stabbed in the chest,
Stabbed in the back,
Disemboweled and skinned,
Their limbs left hacked.
Driving off to work the next day,
The radio blasting- a terrifying murder case,
A smug smile on hannibal’s face.
The cops asking all to remain home,
They have a suspect, caught on camera,
Male, 5’11 wearing a black mask, black hood,
His smile fades away.
The tailor drove and drove,
Thinking about the past,
Winds crashed against the windows,
As wondered how long he’d last.
He’d survived the first job
Escaped with his life
Due to a masked figure
Blocking that bastard’s knife.
Who could possess such power,
That his swords radiate fire,
Was the devil eyeing his mistakes,
Planning to have him retired?
His speculations soon stopped,
Cause he halted his car,
Fished out his knife,
Seeing that his path was marred.
It stood before him,
A hooded,mystic figure;
Possessed a mystic aura,
Its body a blur.
Hannibal stepped out of his car,
Eyes glinting not with malice,
But staring with pure fear,
As he advanced,afraid
Of being chopped and diced.
A cold welcome to the hero of the story,
Devil-
“Greetings, Rookie,
What messes you’ve created!
Truly admirable,
But your work is more messy,
Than of my liking.”
Hannibal stood still,
Afraid of even taking a breath,
For on the path ahead of him,
Lay the directions to death.
A flash of purple flame,
As heard a bird call,
As Hannibal Lector died,
In that desolate spot.
He just looked at his foe,
Leaving him to rot,
Not a sign of remorse,
As was left to his downfall.
The Fuhrer was aghast,
At Hannibal’s death,
But he’d died a psychopath,
Till his last breath.
The End.
~ Veera@ForgersofFantasy
~Riya@Hmmm
Hmmm... 
Leave a Reply