Obsessive Compulsive Decapitation

You were the last I tell myself
The last of those I robbed of health
I doubt myself my restraint
Can I live without your pain?

Prominently on display in my living room
Stuffed and treated, none could assume
That I'm a fucking psycho, polishing my trophies
Casually glancing as they decay slowly
Possessed by their glazed eyes and their pale cold lips

Each room macabre
For some too much
My collection complete
My purpose obsolete

Would you believe
I still feel the need
To disembowel those
Filled with greed
Maybe one more, her blood will stain my floor
Swept under the rug, beaten and drugged
Praying for mercy, this may be sloppy
Organs on display, I revel in the pain
Softly caress your heart in my hands
Predictable failure, my descent