When shit doth beset my fucked mind,
And all the toys of life seem far away,
I find myself adrift, suppressing a wind,
Unmoored in mire, with only "fuck" to say.
The hours stretch out like tentacles, dull days,
Each minute filled with pout and endless doubt.
I pace at any rate and curse my shitty fate,
That dropped me in feces, a dreary route.
But then I close my eyes and take a breath,
And find within myself the strength to slight.
Since the world may seem a thing of death,
A murderous idea burns really bright.
And so I rise and decide the day anew,
Determined to banish boredom for the dumb.
I find the first insect that happans to be,
And murder it with my eager thumb.
I clap in joy, I found my toy,
Henceforth murder is what I do.
Now a serial killer who has killed many,
I kill but never leave a clue.
