Dry blood on the coffee table
Carpet smells like bleach
The walls look like art pieces
I have entered a different league

I feel so powerful
With this knife in my hand
My blade is like a paintbrush
And I decorate the land

Precious red liquid
Dribbles perfect from the mouth
The limp and lifeless bodies
Lie in the basement of my house

I visit them frequently
I decorated a room for them
And if I didn’t love them
Why would I do that then?

They are my friends that don’t reply
But I know that they hear me
They never tell me I’m unwanted
They never say don’t come near me

They never laugh at my glasses
They never treat me like mother did
I’m eternally grateful
To have friends like my father did.