Striding like the wind.
They are frightened,
Unable to cope with their bleary prospects.
They'll have intruders,
On the abrasions of that frigid, slick trap.
They're maniacs,
Ripped to bits, violated, and then spit out.
They've been repressed,
Miserable under the Hippocratic Oath.
They've become untreatable,
Battering and shrieking at whoever draws near.
They were mistreated,
Deformed body parts set ablaze for all.
They should've perished,
In that filthy amniotic fluid.
They'll be laid to rest.
Hallucinating and screaming into nothing.
They are traumatized,
Boring craters into your jammed skull.
They will obliterate you.