Killing Has Made Me a Phenom

Picking strawberries like she said,
I heard footsteps that I did dread.
Because I was afraid, of my own venom,
I wanted him to go away,
For killing has made me a phenom,
I cant control it like I cant control night from day.
At first he sounded, somewhat curious
He played with my head,
Until I was furious,
I held a strewberry so tight it bled,
Though he angered me, I stood still.
He saw the red drops of sweet mercy,
It was him he knew I wanted to kill,
In those great eyes of percy,
I saw his squeamish scream.
It was a scream of not only fear,
But mixed with mad maniacal laughter.
Slime inbetween my fingers,
This intense feeling of want for perish,
For only seconds this invitation still lingers,
Then I'll rip his bones barish.
I did not care to hear his last vow.
My head felt like a plenom,
I was thirsty now,
For killing has made me a phenom.