Whitechapel
1888
Night spills out onto the cobblestone of London
Fog calmly roaming the alley ways
Moon lighting illuminates necrosis
A women, drunk
without challenge crooning whiskey induced lullaby
Unaware the white of evils eye twas upon her tonight
Man of mystery
Man of riddle
Midnight, his choice of mask
Street lights assist her stumble home
Soon to befriend evil
Hidden in the depths of London night
Bidding time at the corner
Tempted
The frozen steel blade carved
Cobblestone stained red
Ever marking this alley as her tomb