Modus Operandi

Blood spews from the pharynx
of the heel's eruption,
pelting the potter's field,
with stippled corruption!

Hands broken by murder,
mended by bloodshed,
hang below his waistline,
as he walks on the dead!

He paves the road ahead;
His path of destruction.
The sun won't rise again,
thanks to death's construction!

The cold wind follows him,
carrying the echoes,
of their cries and pleas
to give them tomorrow!

Mind broken by murder,
mended by bloodshed,
carries him into rest,
as he dreams in their beds!

He paves the road ahead;
His path of destruction.
The sun won't rise again,
thanks to death's construction!

poem by Michael Fischer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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