The beauty of an instrument of death
Behold my kingdom, it is I who reigns
A blast of hot air emits from my breath
Arabian blood in my silver veins

With each cut of the blade my belly grows
A deafening rage emits from my gut
Stripping my victims of green silken clothes
Banishing beauty with each sultry cut

Spewing the essence of flowering things
Gathering souls with such perfect control
I relish the joy that such killing brings
So stand in my way and I’ll take your soul

A simple kill, my victims are slower
I’m king of the field, I’m the lawnmower

Amera Andersen

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/killing-machine/