Ambi-Dexter-ous? (A sanguineous sonnet?)

I often wonder where my future lays

Within this less than great, inhuman race

Rewinding, analysing all he says

Whilst practising my empathising pace

Imagining that I was in that crate

A toddler of a photographic spool

Exposed to re-develop Mother’s fate

And yet still find the spattered blood stains cool

Conditioned by a thousand reels of gore

My eye is dry, my throat denies the gulp

I watch the carnage calmly and ignore

The chainsaw slowly churning her to pulp.

I guess as a result of that bloodbath

I’m rooting for a bloody psychopath.

dudleydo, I take it you haven't watched Dexter? LOL