If I was a Murderer

I would not commit the perfect murder
I would fear
unsure
of possible failures
and survivals
going against the law of nature.
And I would pace the room
questioning judging answering
staring at walls
angry at myself
for failing
at what could have been
the perfect murder
laughing crying frightened
at the slightest possibility
that they have seen my face
tear open masks
that I carve
out of hallowed existence
plotting my next adventure
following
followed
by my demons
my two faced smiles
and I charm charm charm
the wits out with them blows
on the head with stones
poisoned with curses
from Gods
unholy mocking
cynical poor victims
foolish enough
to fall for countless baits
enticing your helpless souls
to satiate my state of mind.