I got bored and decided to write a poem about a disturbed phantom artist who hunts and murders people at night, then uses their blood and corpse as part of his artwork. I'm stuck on title at the moment, so I was wondering if any of you would have an idea, or at least have suggestions to inspire my own. Any input is appreciated. Thank you. :) Here is the poem, for anyone who cares to read it. It's slightly lengthy, and I won't say it's great. Its quality is yours to decide....now I just copy and pasted from a microsoft word document, so hopefully it comes through right. A starry night sets the scene, The moon is full with a silver gleam. The rays dance upon the world As if the fairies of a dream. Bouncing off the walls, the ground, And everything else in sight; The city became a broken mirror For the glimmering stream of light. Then, you see, it hit upon the ground The crimson pool of mortal blood. T’was spilled upon the filthy stone, The filthy cobblestone and mud. Another murder made that night, Another life cut out and whisked away. Another soul into the darkness of night, Never again to see the light of day. And still, while none were near, The killer loomed above his prey, And pondered over the innocent life That was taken by his blade. Not for long, his look forlorn, It changed and twisted all too quick. From deep in thought, to howling laughter; T’was clear that this man was sick. His mind was vile, but still so sound, He wasn’t mad in the slightest bit. He was disturbed, but just an artist, And so his inspiration had hit. He drew his image from the blood, From the shining pool of red. He crafted his pieces from them, From the corpses of the dead. And he disappeared into the shadows, As silent as a phantom in the dark, Yet again evading his capture, But still reviving his inner spark. And somewhere in the darkness, Where every evil creeps, He continues to craft his artwork, Until a new victim he seeks.