Misfortune

Abramelin

Like cattle to the slaughter, he lures them to their death 
Morbid thoughts fill twisted mind, a crave for tearing flesh. 
Friendly face, a lollipop. 
He traps them after school 
Flat-chested, pretty six-year-old, the type that makes him drool. 
Lubricates his vile tool, child tied to the bed 
Rams his rod, the pelvis snaps, sheets stained brown and red 

Chorus

Frustration tears his mind apart 
The pain in his brain- Making him insane... 

His tool shed hosts a magnitude of corpses torn and scattered 
Bloodied meat strewn on the floor from bodies slashed and tattered. 
Sickened brain, repulsive lusts, feeble bodies torn apart 
Finger paints, with body fluids, disgusting abstract art. 
Stark staring mad, re-enacting horrid dreams 
Horrors of his mind-made reality 
More than flesh and blood can bear, raging uncontrolled 
Feeble heartbeat drifts away, corpse lies still and cold.
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