The Bay Harbor Butcher

Hum, stalking killers through the velvet night,

A pulse-beat thrumming ’neath sepulchral light.

Beside the tarnished waters of the bay,

The wretched tremble, none can flee away.

The harbor waits, steeped in an ancient brine,

Where rotting timbers weep with scent of time.

Each footfall measured, every breath like ice,

A soul held fast within a tightening vice.

The Butcher glides with fingers cold as glass,

Through yielding flesh, no fleeting moment passed.

From silvered throats the crimson threads unwind,

Till hearts grow still, and leave the breath behind.

The hungry tide devours what law denied,

As scarlet currents merge with turning tide.

In rigid terror, glassy eyes appear,

The sentence sealed, the verdict stark and clear.

Upon the shore, the blade of Justice gleams,

A quiet measure of extinguished dreams.

He carves the debt, he keeps the rigid code,

For those who wandered far from lawful road.

The harbor feasts in silence, cold and deep,

While sodden timbers guard what spirits keep.

No mercy offered where the salt-winds stain,

Only the hollow hush of endless pain.

The Butcher fades beneath the waning moon,

Into the velvet silence, returning soon.

No footprint marks the path that he has traced,

Save iron’s tang that justice chose to taste.

Hum, stalking killers through the caverned night,

By bay and harbor, beneath the Butcher’s sight.

The guilty vanish where the dark tides stand,

Judged by the weight of an unseen hand.