Murderer.

Patchy, grinning, screaming and mocking
Harpy, vain as all hell
I let him yell


Red haired, blue haired, black haired
Trickster, olive skinned
Don't let him in

Another red haired, blue haired, black haired
Siren, olive skinned
I let that one in


Startled, honest, kept isolated
Unchecked fire in the wastes
No longer chaste

Dead-eyed, bright mouthed, jumpy
Little thing, I might call foe
I still don't know

A lark, a nightingale, an owl
On separate paths, under my nose
I plan to know

Smoldering, chanting, self-destroying
Stick insect, out of the northern wood
Be simple, would that we could