Death Angels

As horrifying as they are, I find the psychology of killers and psychopaths extremely fascinating. They conduct themselves with a warped morality that seems alien, but at the same time, unnervingly human.
Especially noteworthy are psychopaths or otherwise morally bankrupt people who manage to become doctors.

Wingless seraphs in creased white uniforms
Drift through the hallways like living dreams
They steal away with souls like thieves
Delivering sterilized mercy
Booster shots to raise your immunity
Or heighten your mortality

A bedside manner to die for
A vortex that always wants more
It is never enough
That sense of power it gives
Is intense but fleeting
Like a film
You leave the theater eventually

No second opinion, it's not an option
Clean-cut monstrosities skulk, well-revealed
Bringing you oblivion inside a syringe
Or slashing away with obsidian scalpels
Your red against their white
Lost ribbons in the snow
Voices fade and diseases grow
No one will ever have to know

He kills
He heals
A paradox
A pretender
Separate realities
Fractured identities
So attentive, so gentle
So depraved, so hungry

Experimenting with anatomy
No textbooks or drab dissection
Your flesh is their canvas
Your pain their ambrosia
Your screams their catharsis

This won't hurt the slightest bit

How did it come to this?
How could these crimes be missed
For so long as baneful angels walked
Among us, turning blooms to brambles
And cinders to soot?

While some sip the nectar of suffering
Others preach their own compassion
Torn between conflicting destinies
Born among infinite insanity
They're sicker than we are
And there's no way to foresee
The inhuman craving behind
That professional smile

The End

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