I have recently been interested in serial killers. Organized homicidal maniacs who plan out there every move, antisocial insides and charming outsides to lure their victim into their traps. Smartly dressed, clean house, countless academic awards, quiet in class but pays more attention than anyone else. Observes human social life as it is trying to figure out millions of questions running through their heads. 'What purpose does making friends have?' 'Why do you forgive?' 'What is love other than the pain that you get from it?'. Trying to get one step ahead of the police studying the law and crime in their own time, gets married in order to give themselves good reputations, threatens spouses if a word of their doing gets to the police. Watching news about a murder that they have comitted applauding themselves for it for doing such a good job in not leaving evidence. Killing becomes a hobby, a favourite pass time when bored or stressed. They're best friends are all inanimate knives, guns, ropes, gags, crowbars. The list goes on and on.

Lol! That so just became a poem. I'm going to copy and paste it into word