I'm shaking with fear and I want to ****,
That unicorn I see that has all my pills,
Those pills that give me all the nice thrills,
From codeine to NyQuil to Advil,
People stare at me and shake and shiver,
Pulling out a knife while my hands quiver,
Stab it into some small child's liver,
Today I'm a mailman, a death deliverer,
That child's name was Jon,
I killed him while he was mowing a lawn,
He was Mexican and trying to get paid,
I guess I had to come around and make his day,
I said, "Yeet!" as I threw the kids body,
Down into the river and then I yelled, "Gotee!",
I'll feast on the rest of the child's flesh,
Jon was a nice meal, probably the best,
I didn't find my pills in Mr. Jon the unicorn,
I guess his mom gave birth to a ***** that was born,
Without the pill portal that he should've had,
Their family is terrible, all members must be bad,
Now I don't have my pills and I've just had a meal,
I guess the kids meat was a good enough appeal.
Two psychopaths made this poem.
