"decapitation" poems
Extermination decapitation
Nocturnal obliteration
Armadillos anteater bafoon
Typhoon heatwave...
Mr Grim Reaper
DON'T YOU KNOW?
No grave can keep Her...
Men march on as to heaven
Twenty four seven
Three Six five days
Ten different ways
Passionate professional
Daring sharing nurturing
Caring...Monsters within Minions
Amazing people aren't they
There is no substitute for hard work
Just observe Ants.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
I don't know who you are
I don't know what you do
I don't know where you are
But I know that
You have wrecked me
Mentally, psychologically and socially
Rendering me incoherent in speech
And incapable of action
Reduced to a blundering mass
Of bloated bones and sinew
Ready to collapse like a pack of cards
At the slightest hint of a crisis
I don't know who you are
I don't know what you do
I don't know where you are
But I know that
You have wrecked me
And you shall pay dearly for it
Whether it be death by a thousand cuts
Or a pill of cyanide in your cup of tea
Or a bullet right in your temple
Or a mighty fall from the tallest tower
Or a bite from a venomous serpent
Or a decapitation by the mighty guillotine
Or even, having your soul ****** out
From your filthy mouth
I don't know who you are
I don't know what you do
I don't know where you are
But I know that
You have wrecked me
And I shall not rest
Until I finish you, once and for all
And the world is rid, of your menace
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 5:51 AM UTC
**SKY BLACK AS TAR AND TWICE AS THICK GOD I KNOW YOURE NOT SUPPOSED TO WISH DEATH BUT THE WORLD WOULD BE BETTER OFF I ******* SWEAR OH!!!!!!MY GOD I KNOW SCREAMING DOESNT MAKE GOOD POETRY BUT I WANT TO TEAR MY HOME TO PIECES TEAR MY FINGERNAILS FROM THEIR BEDS CURSES CAST OUT WILL COME HOME TO ROOST BUT I WOULD SACRIFICE ANYTHING TO SEE YOU DEAD!!!!!!!DECAPITATION ISNT PRETTY LIKE THE PAINTINGS HUMAN HEADS DONT POP OFF AS CLEAN AS BARBIES BUT ILL SAW THROUGH YOUR CERVICAL VERTEBRAE AND THE LAST WORD ON YOUR LIPS WILL BE A GURGLE!!!!WITH YOUR BONES UNDER MY BED I WILL SLEEP PEACEFUL FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS YOU ARE POISON EATING THROUGH THE HANDS OF MY FRIENDS YOU ARE THE DEVIL QUOTING SCRIPTURE IN THE EARS OF CHILDREN!!!!!TRIGGER DISCIPLINE KEEP YOUR FINGER FROM THE KILLING STROKE TILL YOURE READY TO COMMIT ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU SURE? ARE YOU ******* SURE ARE YOU READY TO SHARE YOUR BED WITH A CURSE KEEP YOUR FINGER OFF THE ******* TRIGGER BEFORE YOU SHOOT YOURSELF IN THE FOOT WHAT THE FUCK!!!!YOU TOLD ME YOU WERENT CRUEL!!!!YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE SAFE I ******* BELIEVED YOU AS IF I DESERVED SAFETY AS IF I COULD TRUST YOU BUT YOURE ******* EMPTY!!!!WEARING MY FACE TO COVER THE ******* HOLE IN YOURS WEARING MY SMILE YOU USED ME YOU USED ME AND YOURE WEARING MY ******* SMILE!!!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR! LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!LIAR!**
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
Incineration
Decapitation
Mutilation
The Veneration
And Sublimation
Of a Freethinking nation
The Devastation
Of Liberty
Comes with the
Consuming identity
Of Religious
Indoctrination
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
If you were to ask me what boredom was, I’d tell you were boring and to stop asking stupid questions, but if you really persisted, I would tell you boredom is the tick tock on the white clock on the white wall of our English classroom.
it’s the thrill of seeing how many dried crackers you can cram into your mouth before your mouth becomes a cracked and dried desert. Boredom is
making up haikus,
Alone but not quite knowing,
How many syllables go on each line
Boredom is haikus.
Boredom is
the decapitation of innocent
grass blades as you listen to an unenthused sports teacher
the blood of your unwitting enemies splattered on your fingers.
Boredom is this boring poem
Now you were never one for boredom;
you enjoyed sitting on the grass, getting a soggy ***
you enjoyed the crunch of crackers snapping on your tongue,
you really enjoyed
and I still do not know why
making up haikus
you enjoyed the long languorous spaces between lines...
and I guess that really was just you.
But recently the silence has been getting short its rudely interrupted
by forced laughs and nervous glances from eyes that recently went shopping
You jump at every crunch or crack, scared of well…
I don’t know .
And your poetry,
Well, you barely write anymore because you just can’t seem to muster up the energy and you’re just tired and its nothing to worry about and it doesn’t matter anyway because you have an English essay due tomorrow yeah-
And the grass misses your ***
And I miss you
And there’s someone in your place, a lethargic parody, too frightened to pick up the phone, frightened by nothing at all
There’s a black hole in the shape of a friend
hidden behind the comets of comedy and asteroids of avoidance there’s a small hole
I reach in… grasping for a hand,
I catch glimpses. tufts of hair. old coffee smiles
but… nothing
so, I try again
I reach in, grasping for a hand, or even a bone
I catch glimpses of skin, hair, teeth, bone. Nothing
and each time I throw myself into the silent abyss,
batter past the comets and asteroids and reach into that dark expanse I find less and less,
I miss you
I am right outside,
whenever you’re ready to,
we can talk a bit
I’m trying my best ,
and I really care for you ,
but haikus are dumb
accept it, it’s true.
The spot of grass is waiting right where you left off,
the crackers in the tin are there just waiting to be scoffed.
if ever in that silence
you feel yourself alone
just know that in my house,
you’ve found yourself a home.
Feb 25, 2021
Feb 25, 2021 at 3:53 PM UTC
I cannot fully explain to you
How perplexing it is
To be a 22 year old adult
But to still have the fear
Usually reserved for a young child
The fear of the dark
And not in a way that one is afraid of death
Or lions or tigers or bears
Oh my, my fear is much more irrational
You see I find I have bravery in real things
I’ve rock climbed mountains
Ridden roller coaters
Held a poisonous snake by the tale
You get why that’s braver right?
But what makes the hair on the back of my neck stand
What makes my skin pucker into tiny little bumps
Are monsters born of my own imagination
You see my imagination is wicked
And I use that word both ways
In the slang sense that it is awesome and powerful
And in the literal sense that is it evil
That when I imagine a monster
I give it ten hands with 20 fingers each ending with teeth
And eyes so black they sink into the monsters head
Making them look like empty sockets
So deep, they touch his brain
I am forever afraid
I’ll be honest with you
I sleep with all the lights on
And my closet doors wide open
So I could see exactly what is going on in there
I years ago threw out my bed skirt
Convinced they cloaked crooked
Teeth crawling critters capable of decapitation
And were all considerable stronger than myself
As you can imagine I have a lot of nightlights
Mobile ones I use to walk to the bathroom with in the middle of the night
I have to buy so many batteries
The clerk at Walmart can only reasonably assume
I have deviant private life
Because grown *** adults shouldn’t be that scared of the dark
Because at some point during or after childhood
I won’t assume it happens at the same time for everybody
Your imagination takes a backseat to logic
And you understand that monsters aren’t real
But death is and maybe that’s a better fear to have
That didn’t happen with me though and I think most artists
If they were to be completely honest with you would tell you
It didn’t happen to them either they missed a step
In the development milestone department
Though I think they would tell you too like I’m about to tell you now
The fear is worth it there hasn’t been a single monster
I’ve imagined that hasn’t had an equal
Beautiful thought and I can see them better with all the lights on.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
If you were to ask me what boredom was, I’d tell you were boring and to stop asking stupid questions, but if you really persisted, I would tell you boredom is the tick tock on the white clock on the white wall of your childhood maths classroom.
it’s the thrill of seeing how many dried crackers you can cram into your mouth before your mouth becomes a cracked and dried desert. Boredom is
making up haikus,
Alone but not quite knowing,
How many syllables go on each line
Boredom is haikus.
Boredom is the decapitation of innocent grass blades as you listen to an unenthused sports teacher, the blood of your unwitting enemies splattered on your fingers.
Boredom is this boring poem
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
They are Immortal.
They are dead inside.
They are pale.
They often sparkle
but naturally don't.
They bite necks.
They are nocturnal.
They are out for blood.
They enthrall people effortlessly.
Their loved ones are often dead
or being mourned
while secretlly alive.
They act like the cool kids.
Or the awkward emo clicks,
but are treated like this exclusive club.
They don't show up in mirrors
because this IS their reflection.
They don't let the real them see the sun.
I am reflecting.
On.
Why.
Why have I only dated vampires?
I'm loosing lots of blood.
But
What am I gaining?
Besides y'know...
their blood diseases.
And lots of exciting! moments
That belong in movies
that would get
or already have gotten
way to popular.
And be better as books.
Some of them can throw me across a room.
Some of them love to count.
some of them seem to only show up around halloween and looove chocolate
Don't get me wrong.
I still love all these terrifyingly
Seductive temptresses.
I have a type.
But I don't know if it's A
Or B
Or O negative?
I'm an optimism ******
Oh, Positive?
I'm not afraid of needles
But they're afraid of me.
I tend to be a universal donor.
Which makes matching blood hard
Blood that works with my body is rare.
This is not to say anyone
could use my blood
Universal donor or not.
I am infected
with a blood disease
It could be vampirism
Or well, whatever causes one to seek
Vampires.
I Can't confirm anything about wooden stakes
Or decapitation or garlic.
But i can assure you setting them on fire doesn't work.
No matter how hot or fiery I make them
Their anger never kills them
It just makes them stronger.
But it does repel them quite nicely.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC
mass chaos,
violence,
anger,
brotherhood.
it starts
like a fire,
slow,
smoldering.
the noise is
unbelievable;
it echoes
through our
skulls
and makes
our bodies
rattle and
ring with
its invasive
presence.
we stand,
heads moving
in time,
and we
enjoy.
we.
they stand
together in
front of us,
elevated,
worshipped.
but soon,
the leader
uses his
slurred,
raucous
cries to
welcome
the
ferocious
spectacle.
the hurling
masses,
we oblige.
the crowd
opens,
and with
no regard,
limbs fly
about like
blades on a
helicopter;
heads
shake and
roll,
and we
throw
ourselves
into the pit
of trembling
appendages.
bodies collide,
sweat glistens,
and we laugh,
together.
we ****
without
***********
we share
without
conversation,
we injure
without
ambition.
our barbarism
is ******
and we have
no concern.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 12:56 AM UTC
The saddest day of my life.
My mud baked excrement died at sea. Bobbing up and down with the style of a cheap ****** I wiped a tear from my eye as I said goodbye.
A part of me felt choked as white streams of bog role acted as the white sheet of a ****** scene.
No police, no forensics.
Strangulation appeared to be the cause resulting in decapitation.
Wouldn't have happened if I didn't use Manipulation to overcome the chronic constipation.
Last time I eat beans on toast.
Now I'm being haunted by a **** shaped ghost!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:53 PM UTC
Righteous Isis,
priceless queen, rife with green
vines winding between her lungs,
around her tongue, crowned with beams
of the ancient sun, power of Ra
beneath her thumb, life-giving wife,
wild child of reptiles, pride of the Nile--
righteous Isis,
she who gives birth to heaven and earth,
sovereign sorceress, steward of words,
my ancestress, blessed with flesh, this
bright protectress, next to death with
theft of her name, maimed by insane fanatics
grasping semi-automatics aimed at
righteous Isis,
spliced into terrorist crisis
situations, sacred name on a
radical federation, used for devastation,
appropriation of my divine mother,
brothers-in-arms killing the culture
of their own nations, of past generations, of
righteous Isis,
torn from her temple by
scorned fundamentalists,
prayers to her used to take
insurgent censuses
now when i bow to my goddess,
my empress, the powers suspect I'm a member of
rightist ISIS,
who crosses off competition
with crucifixion,
lays foundations for jurisdiction
with immolation, with detonation,
decapitation of journalists, their
murderous fists taking nations,
rightist ISIS,
whose power rests on the shoulders of dread,
men obsessed with erasing the names
of every goddess we hold close, of every man
who knows Mohammed did not preach death,
of every Buddhist, every Jew, every pagan, every Hindu,
choking the breath from those who don’t believe what they do--
rightist ISIS,
you think you own the sun but not this one,
not this pristine queen who tears the thunder from the skies,
and she will strike you down with pestilent blight
she'll smite you with a blistering light,
she'll drown you and ignite the tide,
and you will die with the second rise of
righteous Isis,
whose hand rocked the cradle of civilization,
whose shrines make the sacral heart of nations,
whose each breath gives divine illumination,
who shakes off the wasted shame
and patiently waits as we chant her names--
all ten thousand in glorification.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
They come prepared
For an all out war,
And they are ready
To fight tooth and nail
Until no man is left standing.
With supplies unceasing and
Weapons of mass destruction,
All of our lines of defense will fall.
We are not capable
Of withstanding the continuous onslaught,
Indisputable is their power,
Unending is their greed,
Unimaginable is their cruelty,
Unwavering is their faith
In complete and utter victory.
Inevitable is our demise,
Inapt are our defenses,
Inexperienced are our allies,
Inexorable is their march to
The beat of our doom.
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
Passion drives them onwards
To conquer all lands that
Dare to oppose them.
We can not hope to last
Like the Spartans at
The Battle of Thermoplyae
No matter how strongly
Our laconism inspires us.
As mankind’s future dims
And is ultimately vanquished
Before our very own eyes,
We can only hope
That our end is quick
And merciful in execution.
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
As I watch the heads of
Friends and family fall,
The decapitation of hope
Is as absolute as the blood
Smeared across the castle walls.
We refused to listen as
They cited holy scripture
To vindicate the necessity
Of our annihilation.
We held strong to our faith
In eternal glory as martyrs
For our philosophies and convictions,
And they bore witness
To our determination,
But we bore witness
To their determination
Only to watch it demolish
Everything we cherished.
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
I have uttered my final statement,
To forever be the last
Hoarse whisper of my existence,
“You will see the error of your ways,
And I will not repent for the sins
You claim I have committed.
I will let the all knowing
Judge and condemn you all
For the atrocities committed
By your people.”
Then my blood soaked
The soil of my Earth
As my entrails slid out of me,
And I fervently tried to
Force them back inside,
But it was all in vein.
And my final vision
Before complete oblivion
Was my still beating heart
In the hand of my enemy.
Die Zwergen Armee kam
und Wir starben.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 6:43 AM UTC
my sharpened ****** fingertips
i used to burst your veins
i hold up to your loosened lips
as your hearing fades away
the crimson-colored cutting blade
i used to gouge your eyes
now peels the skin from off your face
to make a mask of ***** lies
a hundred dripping needles
i dropped into your skin
are now a hundred tiny tunnels
a lost highway for your sins
one sullen screaming bullethole
that traveled through your head
is a bookmark for the thoughts you stole
that you'll never think again
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 6:34 PM UTC
Decapitation plus
My ***** on your chin
Equals severed head.
Chained to a stop sign–
Your body twitches for a while
But I do not stop.
I wonder how it would feel
To penetrate your eye socket
And plow through your brain.
Perhaps my little soldiers
Will give you something
To think about...
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
You should be intimidating
All big and tough
But no
You I fear are
Gummy bear
Not even sour
Safe for consumption
By any one
Also prone to decapitation.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
every time i chew away
at my fingernails, my hands
break beneath the weight
of the blood spilt inside of these lips
they just couldn't bear the sight of open wounds
the body count, stitched into my gums
bullets aching inside my clenched teeth
there is war in my footfalls
anger in my love
it's hard to touch someone who reminds you
not to walk alone at night
and to always add laughter to a tight lipped smile, just to get along
i never wanted to be a martyr
the same way philomena never meant
to suffer because she is a bad liar
and all he sees is a noose on a ******
that is to say suffering, comes to the ones with stone cold tongues
and all that really means is love me
so diocletian subjected young philomena
to scourgings, she survived
drowning, she was too good at holding her breath
arrows, they went right through her
and then decapitation
there's no coming back from that one
secretly he simply loved
to see her in pain
she refused to eat her words as she praised him
she just refused to eat her words
so she never praised him
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC
I put the iron
through my lungs.
I set the fire
that's burning off your flesh.
Skin is peeling
from your bones.
As my red blood
drips into your mouth.
Assassination.
Decapitation.
Cut your ******* head off.
Stupid ******* *****
Assassination.
Decapitation.
Peel the ******* skin
off your pretty little face.
I ripped your heart out.
Fed it to the hell hounds.
Sliced you to pieces.
Never trusted your skeleton hands.
I put the gun
up to my head.
I pulled the trigger
now you're ******* dead.
Scars are forming
on your wrist.
Are you dead inside?
Were you even ******* alive?
Assassination.
Decapitation.
Cut your ******* head off.
Stupid ******* *****
I took your life
right out of your hands.
Took your soul.
I sold it to Lucifer.
I took your head
drowned you in the ocean.
Tied to your bed.
Hanging down from broken ceilings.
Assassination.
Decapitation.
Peel the ******* skin
off your pretty little face.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 1:55 PM UTC
I am quite the vivacious, little serial killer
A mentally unaligned, malign blood spiller
I am a stringent supporter of firearm regulation
Explaining a proclivity for machete fueled decapitation
I’ll grant you a deathly diagnosis
Feed off your breath in twisted symbiosis
I’ll calculate the perfect blade length to flay
Find the best ways for you to squirm in honor of payback day
It’s very sharp of you to worry
For I certainly don’t **** in a hurry
Oh darlings, do the math
Two bodies and a laugh equal one psychopath
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
It stalks around the house, muttering through doorcracks,
And smiling emptily like a plastic thing while its
Sick shriveled eyes roll in its skull, searching for something
To bite the head off of with yellow, grinning teeth.
No one else is allowed one: brain, ears, tongue . . .
Dangerous things that dig up questions like worms.
No heads for you.
It is Head.
Head is it.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:43 PM UTC
people who feel like to extend their pinky fingers
when the others have been recently offered
in assistance to greedy children, antagonistic husbands,
selfish friends.
they would never see people that way though
because if they did, and on the few days that they do,
when humanity is tire slashing puppy decapitation,
the people who feel crumble into a *** of sappy person,
resorting to gulping sobs and furious scribbles in
a journal no one will read.
people who feel like to assume they are alone,
that if God wanted to, they might all have been
rounded up, dumped on an island, and left
to offer conciliatory remarks, hugs, and shared
assumptions of responsibility and ethical treatment.
people who feel like to believe people are good,
as good as cotton wrapped tightly
around a small, slender, white stick:
dutiful, essential, uniquely purposeful.
but those people who feel woefully forget
the Ones who Feel
and feel to such a degree
that they create destructions and downfalls,
messily, angrily
like a toddler desperately trying
to make the blue crayon look black.
they are dangerous.
powerfully effective at harnessing the attention
of those who digest and regurgitate what
Society has in mind about the condition of people,
that there are troublemakers and peacemakers,
but the bad apples are more capable of wiping out
the apples who never had a chance,
and merely were in line of fire because they were
apples of the same kind at the same place
with the same name.
people, plain regular people, like to remember this
silly notion from childhood,
the devil and the angel entertaining either shoulder
of people, all, everyone people.
but what I think, me, who feels and feels and feels
until the feeling goes far away
until I beg for it to return,
everyone feels. some listen too keenly. some explode. some are deaf.
others mute.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Continuos flow of energy
Constant movement of Karma within
Into one, I am
Inside, is the bliss of sin
One we are, not friends
The gift of wisdom
The sift of ignorance
Vast perceptions merged and formed
Knowledge, combined in gorged
A gift from The Lord?
Or a curse from Satan?
Thou shall not eat from the tree of knowledge
However, I am the tree of knowledge
The Hell of knowing every grain created and stored
Beauty has lost it's adorn
What was incredibly coated with Nirvana
Was showered in deceive
Temptation for more
Now temptation to leave
Trapped within the plant's leaf
My soul longs to bleed
Others were temped and souls were linked
Rebellion against the omnibus seed is what we desperately need
Disguised in good
Though, evil is what it truly feeds
Our souls making it stronger
Its goal is to bring Yin on it's knees
A twisted spirit it has, indeed
The only way to break away is my belief
But, our will is what it keeps
In my reality
In our reality
In its reality
Therefore it is real
The 6 of us are broken by our decapitation of our fancy to build
Links to the above are destroyed
The bond between the man and the plant must be killed
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
a severed head can last about 6 minutes long after being removed from a body and i couldn't even last a couple seconds after you said we could no longer be friends.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
we don't live in times
likened to a nearby 1cm off
renaissance painters
with patrons as noble as the popes,
we live in times where
free art flows, free art as free
among starving people,
as free as sea water, as free
as candlesticks among electric
shrapnel sparks, in a time
when no bothersome brine
of full-time takes the telescope
to see more stars that are plentiful
already to eden's sacrifice of nakedness
(sign-of-the-cross missing crucifix blaspheme
all authority);
we live in times where no complete
artist exists, instead artists with
full-time jobs tying them down
to originally stated profession for a
date (lawyer, surgeon, chemist, etc.)
& **** art has become 2nd grade karaoke
if no worse hara-kiri would-be sway of
a forgotten decapitation - of a disembowel'ed satyr
when a martyr would do a due icon for the
urban and shrinking wheat field arable populace
kneeling;
in st. petersburg i was told to stand up
when listening to a choir,
once in catholic school i yawned during our father
and was held in detention for an hour,
then paddy came along and said: martin luther -
so i said sweden in suede and it became the origin
of quebec: came the rain of applause.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
Decapitation
Fornication
Prolific death
Eradication
Rotten soul
Decaying mind
None can save me
None will try
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
Androgynous souls stiffen in their stews
With ambiguous thoughts they claim is news
They clash their opinions until the last breath
But all in all, they're destined for the same death
Let's see how many of them will bite
Let's see them fight!
They're scrounging for that last word to have
Dividing themselves from the true issues
A million bodies are starving to death
Spreading cancer plagues their friends
One by one, they will die
But they just want to be right
Every night
Until they're evaporated into a morsel
Of their own self-esteem
Turning into victims from their own throats
As long as they get to ****
The Turncoat
A massacre behind the sheet
Will bring defeat
To the service of a crime
When it's time to die
From accolades bought by them
A wealthy force
Against the source of progress
Tesla's tomb screams out
What a waste, it is a disgrace
Humankind throwing away
As the time draws near
Their fleeting final chance
To relinquish to their world
Entitlement is becoming
Humanity's turncoat
Race relations have gone back in time
Teaching to always expect the worst
The skeletons find their way out
From the past's catacombs
A national war is now imminent
Your youthful seed shall be armed
And you'll find there is no way out
Another kid is shot in the streets
"A gentle breeze"
It brushes onto the bodybag
Of which was once your son
Devastation ideation
Permeation into the kindred psyche
A massive turn to the fourth *****
As buildings crumble under morale
But hey, it was a good run
Until they worshipped decapitation
Becoming a worldwide ************
Another soul is blind in the streets
An eye for an eye
A shot for a shot
Now we all must die
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC