A murderer would not own a bludgeon to strike someone to death; neither would he need to conspire with the tasteless potions to poison the object, all the time. A sick mind and the streams of evil thoughts would be enough to make his mark. Disguised in an innocent and heart throbbing smile and words of gold, the murderer will get his job half done.
And the killing would not have any victimized body with blood splashing all around or the last words drawn erratically with blood on the walls or body parts slit in numbers and kept in a travel bag, all the time. The victim would be a HEART...Oozing out the warm and innocent feelings, in pain untold and a wound, left unattended.
To nurture and care for the feelings and emotions of someone, is like rearing a small Birdie, so fragile and unaware and innocent. Feeding her and keeping her safe and warm and giving her all the care and love that is needed for her to fly one day. She feels her claws strengthening, her muscles flickering, the wings aching to take off with her hopes sky high. She flies, she flies to the summit, filling her chest with the air of conquest and in her flight she remembers you to be her God, to be the home she will come back to and she comes back. She comes back not to her God but to her death. You kill her…
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