Story of a criminal

My thoughts were dark,
they were covered with loath
and a great amount of contempt.
They took away my capacity to perceive
I lived a little less,
more like a cipher
dejected, in fry
glory was a far cry.
In a moment of rut, I perpetrated a sin
ruthlessly  I plundered my meek victim
blood, anguish, clamor
and her feeble stammer
but I was deaden, barbarous.
A rapacious criminal,
a man not human.
I maliced her soul along with mine
forgiveness was just not fine.
I was a heartless lack
and now
with my dark thoughts I waited for my sack.