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Standing in a warehouse, carrying out viscous murders

I look upon, viewing the gruesome sight

A mangled body, laying ugly and red

A mush of human sludge is all that seems to remain

Limbs completely distorted hands or feet not mendable

As I examine, trying not to grin

But I can’t help but to snicker at this fucked up mess

I look over to the other

Beaten and barely alive

Twitching and having the inability of speaking, soon to be ripped to pieces

Only being able to make noises to convey their suffering, the spilling blood increases

Grabbing my tools of torture and getting ready to dismember

Making soft incisions just to let them feel the pain and remember

Making fun of their existence and salting their open wounds

They start to shiver biting hard on their own lips,

I play my saw into sections of their weak body

I start to feel so happy seeing their body tremble

Beating them with excessive force with various mallets

Taking certain pieces and placing them elsewhere

Looking at the mess I made, I laugh in success

They would never be fixed if they ever found them

They lie unable to be reconstructed and now I stand in victory with a big smile

I shall now rest in peace and celebrate my efficient and grotesque butchery

These constant killings bring me the greatest satisfaction and the upmost honor

Taking a persons life and watching them wallow in despair is my form of therapy

When you can’t recognize the face once loved by a family

When their entire life has led them to being faced with me