Recidivist,
I see you
over there
waiting
for another chance
to play with me,
but all I’ve got for you
is cold derision,
and this
nagging,
interfering
and all-consuming notion,
that there are more like you
I’ve not yet identified.
Watching you,
carefully.
Watching you,
calculating.
The probability
that you’ll re-offend,
I think,
is staggeringly high.
Narcissist,
gesticulating.
Talking with your hands,
because you’ve got to convince me,
convince anyone,
your value lies in
your mere existence.
Coward.
Death will find you.
He comes for all of us,
but I like to think
he makes a special case,
drags it out a little bit,
watches the fear in the eyes,
hears an honest cry
when you realize,
you were never anything,
but food for flies.
I bet death smiles.
Recidivist.
I’ve got my eye on you.
If you offend again,
I’ve got a plan or two.
I’m on to you
and your psychopathy.
Not gonna let you
get away
easy as we
did before.
We’re watching you, now.
HG – 2019
