Psycho : Need Some Criticism

His pure white hatred burns blatantly,
Yet is hidden in black fog so cold to remiss.
What in the wake of that which is deadly
Would suffice to cease and desist?
In an an effort he would ventilate his fury
But even then that is not a means to an end.
Feeling nothing but unscrupulous hate
His mind is a treacherous cunning fog.
Its gates attract impenetrable trust
That which he exploits, feeling he must.
Shaken, stricken, out of sense out of name
It's not the fault of his own aggression
But in the midst of ill-compassion;
That is surely to blame.

Pure pretension, drastic detention
He has perfectly murderous foolish intention.
The games he plays in his shadowy shade
Are those his victims truly cannot evade.
And so in jealousy, in envy,
In an inevitable downturn
He drives his demons past the point of no return.
There is nothing that will suffice
To transcend him to serenity
And ultimately this is what will conceal his identity.
Although you can chase, run and take your chances
But remember that each open door
Naturally has another one impending; whereas the
Abandoned, barricaded, taboo-forgotten portals
Point no means to his end for you mere mortals.

So flee, hide, get home in strides
For it is a dark night; foggy
You'd best stay inside.

Picture copyright to original owner.