I want to paint with razor strokes

Each line a vein, each shadow a bruise

Where passion burns hot enough

To melt bone to canvas

They say murder blooms from passion—

I'll capture that moment

When gentle hands turn to claws

When love corrupts to poison

How many heartbeats does it take

Before eyes glass over?

I'll paint that transformation:

The precise instant humanity shatters

Watch his fingers tremble

As primal hunger awakens

See sweat pearl on skin

While conscience drowns in crimson

This is no gentle art—

But raw truth splattered

Across pristine white

Where civilization peels away

The final brushstroke:

A killer's eyes

Black mirrors reflecting

What we all could become