• Incompetent lies hide behind street lights until they make their way out of the dark, disrupting every mind that they might touch,
    not caring about those who used to trust.
    And as you stand there with tears in your eyes,
    I want to break down and cry over how poorly you live your life.
    You make me sick.
    Disrupting, upsetting, now killing the lives
    of those five children in your hands,
    bound with ropes and chains, unable to move,
    like a puppet in a play, controlled only by you.
    You make me sick.
    The lies you tell yourself to try to make yourself more humane
    only worsen your condition, it’s like friction,
    heating until your subconscious mind comes alive
    and saves you from your own personal hell.
    You make me sick.
    Thinking that your life is so much better than theirs,
    hurting, pillaging, raping, killing,
    anything else that happens along the way, just an ordinary day in your life,
    not thinking of anyone but yourself.
    You make me sick.
    The end is near, both for you and for them,
    no more hurt, no more pain, no more suffering for an ungodly gain,
    it will all soon be through, and that, that will be the end of you.