It's not like anything I've posted before...pretty long, but please bear with it, the end makes it worth while.
Crime Scene Color By Numbers (1-8 : Red)
The manifestation
Of the whim of desecration
On the mind of the notorious
40 year old rapist
Running his fingers through a young girl's hair
Golden, flowing, light, fair
The feeling of violation
Breezing through the air
He looked at the blonde in front of him
Still tasting his mid-morning gin
His only refrain from touching again
Was the thought of her soft skin
There was just something about her
Was it the highlights or faux fur?
His thoughts of them together
Flying through his head in a blur
He knew he'd show her a good time
Oh, she'd have a good time
With cigarette burns on her feet
And a gag in her mouth
The bus was slowing to a halt
She chosen, not at fault
Standing up to take the large step off
She saw him behind her in the reflection
Beady eyes and a slack jawed smile
The perfect image from a police profile
Hinting from behind the skin on his face
Was the desire to defile
Walking off she felt him close
He couldn't be that bad, she thought, supposed
Then she suddenly felt a hand
Lifting up her clothes
Spinning, she turned to meet her stalker
A stupid grin across his stupid face
"C'mere baby, don't fight what you want"
Her reply was a foot planted flatly between his legs
She screamed aloud for help to come
Fear sending her fingertips numb
Her next point of action was harder to plot
To stay and defend or turn and run
Decisions, decisions, so many to make
Then came the equivalent meeting of his heart to her stake
Cheers,
x
x
