“Dr. Holmes, are you there?”
The pain in her voice
brings pleasure to mine.
Her screams are music to my ears.
her fear is my nourishment;
the louder she gets the fuller I feel.
“Please, someone help”
I built this labyrinth of death
at a time when the world is outside;
a time of joy to which I bring death
A little gas, a little fire
brings a painful death.
“Dr. Holmes. . . I . .”
My wives, my friends, guests
do not know the true secret
of the hotel on West 63 street
Days pass and her body decays
Ah, the sweet smell of silence.
this was written from the POV of Dr. H.H. Holmes
dude i hope you wrote this for an assigment
ReplyDeletehaha why would you ask? He gave us a suggestion to write a poem from a historical figure, so i did Americas early serial killer.
ReplyDeletesolid choice haha
ReplyDelete