We Struggled

Blood collected in pools.
Small pools, large pools, 
pools revealing the acts of violence.

The bodies lay
on the floor
mutilated and beaten, 
poked and prodded.
Violence fell upon them
they walk no more.

Blood collected in pools.
Small pools, large pools, 
pools revealing the violence.

Limbs in awkward directions
bones misplaced
pain had washed through here.

But the last symbol of life, 
the clue to all this desolation
was left on the bodies.
This killer, the serial killer
left the message just for them.

For everyone 
to read, 
to decipher, 
to determine, 
to figure out what it means.

Written across their stomachs
in their own blood, 
two words
"WE STRUGGLED"

That is how it works
we struggle
but even that
no, not even that can save us
from the great serial killer.

[A/N] Written throughout the day, mostly right before I went to bed. Friend wanted me to write about a maniac who killed his family. So the choice is yours, did I follow her idea, is the serial killer the maniac or not.

Writen: March 2011