His identity was never found.

He was known as Jack The Ripper.

He viciously attacked working women of the night.

He sighted them alone after dark, embarking on his thrill for murder.

His growing recognition from their demise.

It is said his victim cries were heard echoing in alleys on the dingy streets of east end london.

He dressed all in black complete with top hat and cape, carrying a shiny black bag.

Perhaps to blend in with the dark of night?

Hiding in the shadows, tell a victim was in sight.

The women found dead after the attacks, laying in the streets flat on their backs.

Heads nearly severed from their necks.

A look of surprise still in their wide frightened eyes.

All five victims all the same.

Their unfortunate living circumstances to blame.

Drunk, destitute, and left to their own devices.

No evidence could suffice.

The authorities searched the cobble stone streets.

Out each night on their regular beats.

Always one step behind in finding the notorious killer.

He always made a fast retreat in the nick of time.

A sick warped mind to be sure.

Taking pleasure from his morbid kills.

He carved them up with precision skill.

The tale of jack the ripper, tells of a serial killer from long ago.

His identity still to this day, we shall never know.

Many theories were tested as to why he killed.

Jack the ripper, long gone.

History still mentions his name.

His murderous acts gave him fame.

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