The Deadly Job

Surveying the area,
Eyes dart from object to object,
Placing numbers like a complex equation.

Gloves stick to his fingers like honey,
Revultant, slimy objects placed carefully into bags,
Each like a puzzle piece,
Complex, unique and cannot be left out.

Examining the blood, dark as bricks,
Stains deciding the awful fate,
Every tool has unique splatters just as a fingerprint,

Every breath he takes feels stolen,
Staring into the life that was once vibrant,
Never to shine again.