Jack the Ripper, a poem about the face of evil
Whitechapel
Deep in the East End
Year of our Lord, 1888
Degradation, crime, disease
Bleak days and deadly nights
Unspeakable horrors
From alleys and brothels
The reality of death ever close
History calls him Jack
The locals coined him the ripper
Hateful of the female form
Precision mutilation
Left without recognition
Five canonical victims
Fingers of the hand
His grisly act a soliloquy
Fame for infamy
Killing without care
And then, he was goneā¦