Agony dispayed upon my face
I came to rot here in this
awful place
The bags are filled with pieces
of them and the others
somewhere there are screams
of the mothers and fathers
wanting the ones they love back
back into their arms
and hope you are not in harm
but the truth is the blood leaks
through the holes in the bags
through the bags
I lost my arm the bastard took
just let me go from out this nook
you are a lier a murderer a fucking
crook and the crick in my neck
may as well be rigor mortis
shall I die in vain, vigor, or just this?
The scars of the blade upon my flesh
will be the food for the beast
oh so fresh and sweet
so satisfying
monster
you are