A reflection on anger...Mature

There must have been someone who would let you work out your sickness on them.

Why did you have to globetrot in order to satisfy your bloodlust, or whatever sicko psychos like you call it,  

If I could, I would stop judging you, and the obvious indifference you have,

I hunted you, and when you slipped through the net, I went fishing, hunting, slaughtering dozens of cattle at my boss' slaughterhouse, until I realized that violence against innocents was not a panacea.

Chicken or fish are good things. You didn't feel like hunting down a piece of beef?

The only clue I couldn't understand; you always dressed up as a modest woman when you went to find your random victims.  Eyewitnesses talked shit about you, a tall piece of crap in dishdashi, unnoticed until the knife or gun had done your evil for you.

That is not what I do.

You must have a hard job to do.

I gave you warnings, silently prayed that you would take up a hobby instead of murder.

You have lied to yourself for most of your life, the profiler said.

But, you like to kill Muslim women.
That is not what I like to do.

If you read this, you will be wasting your time covering your tracks and looking over your shoulder for me.  You will never be able to spot me, for I know the name of the breeze that will take your life.

The End

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