Ted Bundy poem, “Blood Splattered Rose”

It’s hard to tell these days when I’m being mocked or when people are being serious. In any case, here is a poem by michelle.hayton80

Blood Splattered Rose

Your face was a face of sensative and tranquil beauty.
Blue eyes as clear as glass.
Looking into them I feel myself pulled into
your unfathonable depths.
The trench of your soul was so deep and dark.
How could I know the slimey and repellent
monster that dwelled in those depths?
Your hair was soft like silk and boyishly curly.
The kind of hair any girl would be tempted to touch.
How did you manage to wash out all that red?
Never a hair out of place.
Always sweet and clean
exept in the darkest hours of your deprivity.
What a charming hollywood star grin you had.
Your cocky self assurance could win over
anyone, man or woman in an instant.
How could they know your smile
was the smile of a wolf?
Snarling before making the kill.
Such nice hands, narrow tapered fingers and clean nails.
The kind of sensual hands a woman would want on her body.
No woman could suspect what those hands did
in the unobserved woods and rooms of the night.
The woman you laid your hands on cried out in pain
never in pleasure.
You where tall and statuesque
skinny and well porportioned.
How could so much brute inhuman strength
dwell in such a wiry body?
Unspeakable horrors staining your rose
a bloody red.
Using your external beauty as bait to draw women towards you.
You where their prince charming
but then you turned into a monster
before their eyes.
Try as I might, I cannot envision you doing evil
but I know you did.
Your legacy has inspired so many
villians who came after you.
You knew you would be remembered
that was your plan.
What a profoundly intelligent man you where
and yet what an utterly insane temper you had.
None of those sweet and lovely woman
deserved what you did to them.
You where the killer casanova
Promising passion and pleasure
but giving only pain and fear.
Strange that so much horror could dwell
in so perfect a form.
Such a tragic waste of a life
that could have been great.
I am drawn to you but I feel
your coldness squeezing my heart.
It is like you are a black abyess
and I am standing at the edge
absolutly horrified to fall in
and yet unable to turn away.
Why do people like you exist?
I do not know and suppose I never will.
I cannot hate you even if I should.
You where right when you said that
we must move beyound retribution.
So what good would it do to hate you?
Another death is only another death
in a continues cycle of violence.
The time has come to bring that cycle to an end.
I will never give in to my dark side
in the way you did.
You refused to admit your guilt
because in your mind you did not
belive it was wrong.
It was not your fault that you had
no sense of morality.
I will never love or hate you.
But I am fascinated by you
Theadore.

Michelle Hayton