What shall befall when you feed yourself the knife?
When you just want to put end to the strife,

Just sleep and never wake,
No bleeding heart or daily ache.

Save the innocent from the peril that waits,
All the demons kept back only by decaying gates,

So sacrifice the children, a personal Jonestown,
After all they’ll be far safer buried six feet underground.

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Morbid, twisted, grotesque. My muse is creepy sometimes. What can I say?