Let me start off with a disclaimer: Nothing written is me. Sometimes when the first person is used the reader makes the assumption that it is the writer. The "I" is not me. If you must know: I had a dream of the character with a remorseful expression on his face. Scared me really. Here goes.
The Disappearance of a Remorseful Killer
Twos has haunted me all my life,
And the sad part is he has control over me.
I just sit alone in a corner
Waiting for the bastard to arise.
It is sadly inevitable.
He comes and goes as he pleases.
I always ask myself, "Who can I possibly go to?
In today's society, who would truly understand?"
The gong strikes two as I close my eyes.
The rains came down washing the sot in a dark alley.
A part of him wonders how exactly did he get here?
Gentle footsteps tap the ground with a click, clop, click, clop.
Creeping silently like he had done four times before,
The predator strikes his prey.
She never even had a chance.
The knife slid through her like butter again and again.
Blood rolled off the knife like tears.
Somewhere deep inside Twos an intense sadness erupted,
But that was shut down with the rush of the moment.
As light began to raise its head, he was gone.
I must put an end to all this madness.
He has to be stopped for good
By any means necessary.
I see the painted weapen and shout, "This is all your fault!"
A rope and some weights shall suffice.
I wish there was some other way
As the forgotten lake calls my name.
My only regret is that his dreadful name will live on forever. | 
