He looked at me with a fascinating passion in his eyes
The mere presence of his body over mine felt strange
A presence that I knew many others before me had felt
It felt sick knowing that I would be the next victim
The fascination, however, still remained, making me only sicker.
The beads of sweat from his forehead fell on my exposed body
Too many thoughts went through my brains at that moment
Unfit and unworthy of being remembered then
All I could do was to hope it would be over soon
And that the pain would not be too much.
Then, he entered it into me.
The blood oozed out of me spilling over the land I once tread on.
I lay there.
He looked satisfied.
Another victim to his name.
More money in his pocket.
I am the goat that the butcher killed with his knife today.