Whitechapel

Beggars and failures; self indulgent, cry endlessly.
The povern, ill-stricken and desperate come crawling to me.

Poor Polly, as night breathes upon us,
Your name grows cold as the air.
Poor Ann, sleep well
May the soil comfort you once again.

They worship, sustaining, fear and obeying, distinctively.
It's hiding; disguising, so close and not knowing how near you he breathes.

I see them come to give praise. So many hold on to secrets.
There is one who is different, his soul is most unkind.
I see them all. I see them pray.

A pure White Chapel behind fence and grave.
Oh White Chapel, so many souls to save.

Rumors, eyes widening, fingers are pointing, he's left them a clue.
Dark alleys are havens, hiding abrasions; the victims of ruin.

Poor Lizzy's message never spoken
Drowned in places where they find him.
Poor Kate, sorrow has now found you
Release the panic, grief and anger.

I listen and envision, I comfort the pleading of lives gone astray.
They're waiting for someone to come and forgive them; I like it this way….

Displayed for the world to see. They're looking.
Hearts sit silently. I hate them.
One remains with me.

From here, I see him kill. Blood has spilled. An over-looked disguise.
I can't believe, you can't tell, you know him well. He's right before your eyes.

Ripped and tortured, knives explored her. The final echo in life's last call.
Poor Mary's now decorated. Made his mark, never found at all.

I sit and wait.
I heard them once.
I heard them pray.