The story of a child cursed and abused...
Simply because the demons amused
Nashing and burning his selfish way there.
Penetrating tears without the slightest care
She begs and she pleads.
While he laughs so insane.
A heart simply stone and for that he remains.
But he will get his in the depths of a cell
Tormented and rotting in his own personal hell.
May his two *** burn with delight...
While maggots feast between his legs...
Let him bleed with all might.
Maybe he is the accident, maybe he doesn't belong.
Maybe he is a ***** perhaps I could be wrong.
Poor old mother ******
He loves to see her cry.
He screams and shouts as loud as he can.
God I wish he'd die.
She is so fragile, her past she can not change.
But she continues to live in torment because the demons turned insane.
He loves to hear her stories.
The anger lets him live.
While he steals away her liveliness.
Until there is nothing left to give.
Give me a Four foot blade so I may stick it up his ***
Rip out all his organs, his rapture shall not last.
I'll place leaches on his ***** and rip out all the veins.
I'll make that ******* so regret the day he ever came!
I will rip out all his ***** hair, one by one you see.
Just to watch him squirm and bow down before great me!
I'll put needles in his pupils and tell him he will die.
But not for two more weeks, I want to watch him cry
All her tears, all her pain these hands can not cure.
But his death and this poem are sacrificed for HER!
Amber O.
My sister wrote this for me............
May 27, 2010
May 27, 2010 at 2:39 PM UTC
The story of a child cursed and abused...
Simply because the demons amused
Nashing and burning his selfish way there.
Penetrating tears without the slightest care
She begs and she pleads.
While he laughs so insane.
A heart simply stone and for that he remains.
But he will get his in the depths of a cell
Tormented and rotting in his own personal hell.
May his two *** burn with delight...
While maggots feast between his legs...
Let him bleed with all might.
Maybe he is the accident, maybe he doesn't belong.
Maybe he is a ***** perhaps I could be wrong.
Poor old mother ******
He loves to see her cry.
He screams and shouts as loud as he can.
God I wish he'd die.
She is so fragile, her past she can not change.
But she continues to live in torment because the demons turned insane.
He loves to hear her stories.
The anger lets him live.
While he steals away her liveliness.
Until there is nothing left to give.
Give me a Four foot blade so I may stick it up his ***
Rip out all his organs, his rapture shall not last.
I'll place leaches on his ***** and rip out all the veins.
I'll make that ******* so regret the day he ever came!
I will rip out all his ***** hair, one by one you see.
Just to watch him squirm and bow down before great me!
I'll put needles in his pupils and tell him he will die.
But not for two more weeks, I want to watch him cry
All her tears, all her pain these hands can not cure.
But his death and this poem are sacrificed for HER!
Amber O.
My sister wrote this for me............