Stockholm

With my knife,
I will create.
A world of pleasures, smiles, and hate.

This world is my playground,
And you are my toys.
Set up nicely,
Then slowly destroyed.

I'll make my way in,
Cutting deep with this blade.
The torture will increase
And your mind will slowly fade.

With your weak body mangled,
You look into my eyes.
You no longer see a freak.....a monster,
But a man inside.

The key was thrown away,
My heart locked into my chest.
But you picked the lock,
And here I am.

My mask undressed.

I have no where to go,
And no where to hide.
My facade is over,
I'm no longer dying inside.

I will now stop my riddles,
No longer playing this psychotic game.
But you will never truly know me,
Unless I throw away my name.

You may laugh and poke,
At the situation at hand,
But remember the name, that went out with a stand.

This is no joke,
But remember my true home.
Is within the identity,
Of the one known as,
Stockholm.