Avada Kedavra
I raise my wand above my head and cry
The ancient words that make my magic flow.
The air is heavy, crackling, swirling high
As lightening hurls from me toward my foe.
The power courses through my veins and floods
My soul with venom to the very core.
Intoxicating is the scent of blood
As magic surges through my every pore.
And so I laugh and shiver with delight,
His pleading filling me with twisted mirth.
And with a flash of blazing emerald light
His lifeless body crumples to the earth.
I giggle softly, revel in the thrill,
The raw and sinful pleasure of The Kill.