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Four bodies, axe wounds to the neck and head

Writhing around in throes of death

One small child survives

But death shrouds her mind

His eyes burnt cold, no remorse

Calmly the poison dripped from his lips

Stripping all honour from his bones

Covering his soul in putrid shame

Hacking the ones I love to death

Is not something I'll regret

I will live this lie till I die

No one will ever see the horror lurking inside

The faceless laughing figure, the convenient myth

The blood still drips from the axe's tip