The Lunatic

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a song i wrote

Submitted: September 09, 2010

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Submitted: September 09, 2010

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Weapons, poison, pills, bins.

I laugh out loud at all my sins.

You want to fight, you want to run.

I am delighted; my fun has begun.

You try to fight, you try to beg.

I stab the cold blade into your leg.

As you are cut, you scream and cry.

Poor little girl; you are destined to die.

I cut and stab; fun all around!

You choke up blood, and I love the sound.

Crimson liquid spills on the table.

I cheerfully smile, I know I'm not stable.

I inject you with poison and watch you squirm.

I picture your corpse being eaten by worms.

You call me sick, and I lean down to say,

“I am the huntress; you are my prey.”

You fight and struggle, all too aware.

I run my fingers through pretty blonde hair.

Blood streams down to cover your ear,

And I cut it off; my own souvenir!

You scream and yell, as you are dismembered.

But my darling victim, always remember,

As your soft flesh is torn from pale bone,

No one can change me; I'm set in stone


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