Hah.. I got into a conversation with my boss yesterday about serial killers and such... uhm odd, I know. I wanted it to seem kind of like a mix of my usual with some conversational tones. I guess I went for a story poem thing.
So Long as it Looks Accidental
My lady!
You came as a spectre in black,
your fingers cold like the chilled air.
Your breath was like ice forced into veins.
A gentle drug in conscious guilt.
"Poor thing! She was such a beauty!"
The maester spoke to the coroner.
"They said they found her head opened in the alley below."
Because you see.
"This wasn't the first time, oh no."
"Just mere days before they say they found the body of local Ms. Stacey."
And what a shame her small children would never be the same.
But they can tell you this for certain.
All the girls stepped lighter, indeed-indeed.
"They looked over their shoulders, scoping for me."
Because you see, as he sat alone on a park bench,
he took note of his prey by peering over the edges of his newspaper.
"Who would suspect! That all these little girls hurt themselves."
And then the maester. What if there was foul play?
Because you see,
if it looks like you're on their side- they won't suspect you.
And if it's just a tragic accident, they can't catch you.
But they called out the maester,
"Sorry sir, we may need to ask you just a few questions."
And so he'd look so shocked,
"It's just formality, we need you as a material witness."
They called it a travesty! A fall from grace-
he who was sworn to protect hid away savage delight.
Murder was it?
"Oh no! Oh no! Don't get me wrong! They just fell down."
All it was, was an accident.
"But how can you explain how many of them died so suddenly?"
the coroner spoke to the maester.
"Well you see, they were only accidents. A grave, unfortunate fate, indeed."
"Of course, of course."
"And not to mention how beautiful they were."
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