Eyes, slit and red
Heart, cold and dead.
How many times must I kill myself?
This has to go into the books on the shelf.
Records, records, of a dark monster,
Your insides, your skin, hate the alabaster,
A knife that clatters, to the floor,
Hands that bleed, you gut the gore.
With vicious brutality
You kill your family
Finally until there's nothing left.
Hands that tremble, palms that are cleft.
Your inner pulse that knows no bounds
It prowls, jealously, your inherited ground.
How fun it is to see blood fly
And how interesting it is to see girls cry.
Tears and vomit, mix with blood.
Zip your mouth, zip it shut.
This will gather no sympathy.
Instead, raining abuses come as a symphony.
Curl up and die, die a horrible death,
For life is nothing but an empty sheath.
Her lifeless shell lies smiling on the floor.
Gun, dagger, covered in gore.