I murdered the vigorous young racer.
He stopped with his last slip of drink, which I poisoned.
I murdered the skillful cook.
She slept for eternity in slumber, which I created for her.
I murdered the strategic general.
He saw the beautiful shore of light, through without eyes.
I murdered the loyal butler.
He shall walk in the counsel of laborers, which I allowed to him to work until the end.
I murdered the faithful mistress.
She arrived in the land flowing with honey, where I also prepared the wasp.
I murdered the righteous judge.
He ruled over any man to atonement, as I did for him.
I murdered the erudite surgeon.
He was blinded by my wisdom and feel over the cliff.
I murdered the meticulous investigator.
He crushed as he moved his step carefully, by a roaring bear of blunder.
I murdered the fortunate solider.
He fulfilled his heart once again with the heart-felt bullet I prepared.
I murdered the loving teacher.
She hanged herself with the chair, which I gaver her.

I am Agatha Christie.
The Queen of Crime.