For the ‘Different Magazine’. This is my entry for the competition. It’s basic and…

Massacre
Ben Cusden

Massacre on the front page.
Mascara on my bed.
Innocent dead. A ransacked town.
Last night still in my head.

As the children died.
My lovesong cried.
As they fell to the floor.
I begged you for more.

The blood of the victims stains my mind.
I’ll take you from behind.
The blood of the victims stains my mind.
I’ll take you from behind.

As the injured weakly crawl.
I masturbate, salivate and drawl.
As the mourners lay their wreaths.
I feel you underneath.

The joys of lust with the girl I love.
As the dead watch down from far above.
I writhe and wriggle, twist and shake.
Today we made a big mistake.

Now my family’s getting bigger.
Now his hands upon the trigger.
The months reel by so fast.
The people hear the final blast.

As I hear my first baby cry.
A million others kneel down to die.
And when it’s mother’s tears are shed.
A million people lie alone, quite dead.

I was never happier than on that day.
The discarded bodies start to decay.
At my darling baby’s birth.
Their innocence, it is their curse.

Of the young and innocent she does not see.
The faults not theirs, it’s you and me.
Of the young and innocent she does not see.
The faults not theirs. It’s you and me.

copyright © Benjamin Gestaltung Cusden all rights reserved
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