The lockSmith‘s Son

The LockSmith‘s Son

Stop Breathing

Stop breathing,

then I don’t need

to kill you.

Don’t move.

Don’t cry.

Don’t give me reason,

to pity You,

They don’t call me

the locksmith’s son

for fun.

I don’t knock.

I don’t wait.

I know how to enter

and how to end.

You know how quiet

I can be.

You know

how clean.

No fight,

no mess,

no second chance.

Let your body

answer for you.

Let the air

decide.

I’m not here

to play

or plead.

So stop,

and be done.

They don’t call me

the locksmith’s son

for fun.