I don't know why I do it,
I just do
I was told it was wrong,
But it brings me pleasure
My mother would cry
My daddy would die
And my brother,
Well, he taught me how to,
Just in more than one way
My friends joined in on our little game
They claim it's fun to
And I feel joy,
Knowing that they accept me
Murder is fun,
It's fun to see their cold,
Dead,
Eyes.
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I promise I'm not a creep or a murderer I had a really creepy dream once and this is what resulted of it I'm sorry if this creeps you out at all.
YOU ARE READING
My poems
PoetryA deep collection of poems I write usually when I'm sad or depressed
