The first thing I noticed about him
Was his deep, sunken brown eyes
that appeared to be a warning sign
Labeled as “disatoruous.”

Frizzy, black hair, like coal 
covered the damage of a man that hid behind
Those dark, sorrowful, sad eyes,
Plumped, rich, mocha lips never
Tasted so heavenly as when those
Sweet lies slipped off the tip of his tongue.

His satisfying words spilled over every
Young, broken, women he had ever
Made contact with.
The once so pure
Words, transformed into a confusing
Web of lies that left women drowning
In a puddle of warm, tears,
Soaked on the cold, bathroom floor
paralyzed.

But that’s just who he is.
Boasting about the hearts
He captures, and demolishes before their eyes.
He embraces the heartbreaks he inflicts upon
Young, naive, damaged females.
He is no sane man,
but rather a hideous monster
That takes pride in the hearts he breaks,
The souls he rips out of the lost and damaged,
And the innonces he steals from the culesless.
There is no blood in that man’s heart.
Indeed his heart is as black as night.