Misfortune

Abramelin

Like cattle to the slaughter
He lures them to their death
Morbid thoughts fill twisted mind
A crave for tearing fleshFriendly face, a lollipop
He traps them after school
Flat chested, pretty six year old
The type that makes him droolLubricates his vile tool
Child tied to the bed
Rams his rod, the pelvis snaps
Sheets stained brown and redFrustration tears his mind apart
The pain in his brain, making him insaneHis tool shed hosts, a magnitude of corpses
Torn and scattered
Bloodied meat strewn on the floor
From bodies slashed and tatteredSickened brain, repulsive lusts
Feeble bodies torn apart
Finger paints with body fluids
Disgusting abstract artStark staring mad
Re-enacting horrid dreams
Horrors of his mind made realityMore than flesh and blood can bear
Raging uncontrolled
Feeble heartbeat drifts away
Corpse lies still and cold

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