Nice to Meat You OR A Serial Killer Falls Prey to Conventional Freudian Pitfalls

Nice to Meat you, My maim is Burry.
If you'd let me halve this job, you'd see
What a wounderful worker I'd be,
Or, axeually, what you saw, I mean.

I've submitted my tests; doctors scream "He's SANE!"
And yet you piercesist in ignoring my aims.
Be quite assured, I've got an eye for game;
Alive or otherwise, my shot is the same.

What I mean is, I'm a go-get-her,
I chase my desires, make sure they're done
to-the-letter.
Crafted on my terms, so they're done unfettered.
Had I a problem with something and I'd met her,
I'd strangle her, the problem, or maybe behead Her...

I'll say once more, reconsever my employ,
Do it now, consider your little boy,
And we can't forget your darling wife, Joy,
Joy's Velvet gown...
Your son's plane toy...

They'd find it regretful, you refusing me, Dave.
You'll lose your head; its your chance to save
Your business, Dave. Keeping current employ's brave
With those corpses your livelihood looks grave.