Killer Or Savior?

Smash! Boom! Boom! Thud!

Is the sky falling down?

Oh! Gosh!

That shattering sound,

It’s giving me a fuzzy feeling.

Did our home collapse?

The building did not crumble,

That’s indeed a big story.

I figure it out now,

She is back with a bang.

The killer strikes afresh today,

My house is the target.

Every victim seem terrified,

They send silent prayers.

Who will be hit next,

By the heavy punch from her?

I suspect she is a regular killer,

She works with so much skill.

Seldom you get a hint,

About her next victim.

I wonder how she traps,

Her poor victims?

Rarely she gets caught,

In her brutal crime.

The assassin marks her tools,

With so much precision.

She walks in calmly,

She picks her targets of the day,

With utmost patience.

The hapless victims are precious,

I have bonded,

With each one of them.

They are Family to me.

Many of them voiceless,

Yet, they are all frail sufferers.

The killer shows no mercy,

To anyone who gets in her way.

She hits her victims abruptly,

They get no time to run.

A terrifying sound fills the air,

Many times I rush to the spot.

To protect them from her,

However, I always reach late.

Victims sizes differ,

Some small, others big,

Yet, I love all of them.

I adore them all,

In my head,

Not by their ages

However, per their longevity.

Nothing can save their lives,

I end up crying bitterly.

Shout at the killer’s back loudly,

As I stand with grief and anger.

Watch the victims being taken away,

To be dumped in the trashcan.

Even if I cannot hold still,

What should I do?

Witnessing so many killings,

I have become numb in emotion.

I have no option left with me.

My body only erupts with anger.

I am the ultimate victim,

Who has retained the butcher,

That slaughters my fragile dolls.

I cannot throw the killer,

The way she thrashes my babies,

One by one from my Family.

There is no dispute,

About the identification,

Of the serial killer.

She is my house-maid,

Her victims are,

My household articles.

The tools of the killer:

Dusters in many sizes,

Light as a sponge,

The wiper is as strong as a stone.

Brooms, Mops, her apron,

And above all, her skilled fingers.

She never seems sorry,

About her slaughters.

However, I try to explain,

To her about her mistakes.

My maid never admits,

About her wrongs.

In her eyes,

I am the original killer.

As I continue expanding my Family.

So many precious gems,

I get from various corners,

Their life seems short here.

Everything stings in her eyes,

She becomes blind with anger,

As her workload rises,

With more additions to the Family.

My poor babies,

The innocent sufferers,

Eventually, they get stabbed by her,

My maid: The ultimate Killer.

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