Guilty Conscience

I watched her beg for mercy
She writhed and moaned in pain
But even as she groveled for help
She knew her pleas were naught but vain

She saw the lifelessness in my eyes
The cold, calculating stare
She felt my strong, icy grip
And she felt only despair

I slashed her, left, right, across
Swung hard and true with my knife
So meaningless to my mind
But to her, it meant her life

I burnt her, beyond recognition
None would now find her remains
I washed her blood off my hands
And off my clothes removed the stains

I whistled a tune as I went
To a guilty conscience I was not prey
For her, it was the end of her life
To me, it was just Friday

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