So you can...
While I keep stalking
And I’ll own like I’m in the spotlight walking
Get up off me, this is my gun and I like cocking it!
I’m the king of these words and shit
I reign supreme with this murder shit
Ain’t no sense in screamin up out your head
When Tom comes around best believe you’re dead
You think you’re slick well I’ll cut you
You think you’re it well I’ll fuck you
You’re one sick pup
If you think
That I’ll succumb to some shrink
Ain’t no fink, rat, or snitch
But you sure can’t scratch this itch
You can’t contain or refrain me
You can’t restrain or detain me
The mutilation my way
A crucifixion today
So much pain to dispense
So call it Atton, Vigor, or Tom
We're still gonna drop bombs
© Copyright 2016 Atton Brown. All rights reserved.
Book / Horror
Short Story / Young Adult
Poem / True Confessions
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