Obsessive Compulsive Decapitation

You were the last I tell myself

The last of those I robbed of health

I doubt myself my restraint

Can I live without your pain?

Prominently on display in my living room

Stuffed and treated, none could assume

That I'm a fucking psycho, polishing my trophies

Casually glancing as they decay slowly

Possessed by their glazed eyes and their pale cold lips

Each room macabre

For some too much

My collection complete

My purpose obsolete

Would you believe

I still feel the need

To disembowel those

Filled with greed

Maybe one more, her blood will stain my floor

Swept under the rug, beaten and drugged

Praying for mercy, this may be sloppy

Organs on display, I revel in the pain

Softly caress your heart in my hands

Predictable failure, my descent