Die. But first kill them all. All the cunts. bastards.
My life was worthless, at least my death should count as something. If I can take one of them with me, it will be worth it.
Creepy.
memories, ideas.
taste of some long forgotten flavor, like a snake coil up my tongue.
your prizes, your pats in the back to each other, your secret meetings, your comfort life.
me in the center, crazy, my legs covered in blood, my scar stricken body.
Each mark it´s a letter, if you put them all together you can read my name is pain and my blood is revenge.
No comments:
Post a Comment