RapVerse.com Community - View Single Post - Memoirs of a Serial killer..lol

Train wrecks in my head, crashes,sounds of my wand fucking you up the ass..
abbacadabra you and your crass family, you dont see me, or feel me hovering..
I appear like the wind through your window, i'm a shadow lurking past...
quietly moving about the house, just me and a mouse...
I play tooth fairy, gash the teeth out, make a pretty necklace, under the pillows..
of crimson stained faces, leave holes like swiss, cheese where you had a mouth full of braces....smiles dwindled, the candles flickered..
and flames burn, you fuckin burnout...
All but one murdered, hallways turned down...
You deserve every drop of rain that fell from the sky to replace the tears stream from your eyes..still inside..
Draggin body bags through doorways, double my pleasure make discomfort increase........
I'm under slight pressure...
Make it last..tonights treasure chest is full of decomposed corpses, no remorse..
None close, whos fault? you caused this, reasons i'm remotely controlled..
I abide by forces, voices unfamiliar,not my own....
Brain split in two separated sounds and synapses, i call them harry and alice..
Murdering in complete malice...
Move slowly with heated blades,but pause at moments,we both know all of this..
I pray for one more headache.......
When the pressure builds evil awakens, anxious bipolar makings of a serial killer..
Seeks the frills, liquid spills of 2 hour thrillers......
Hard to feel heart in human beings, something harry knows as well.....
Want to kill them to free them, hope to seal the deals, withhold the souls of fear..
I have no choice, brain disease stole my voice..
I do what my rice krispies tell me too.Desperate. for different characters play roles
That i'd kill to fill...
Twisted plots unfolding, into this abyss that is knowing..is it raining,is it snowing?
Stained,forlorned hands love the taste of flesh, dismembered and beaten..
Vexed villains avenging vengeful niggas cus i believe it......
Not the way that they see it........
Someday,i'll turn on myself,i'll be taken off this shelf....
but replaced like a cycle circulating sick thoughts are always recycled, reused
And played in..
Satans sandbox a six sided circle, azrael sides with virgil~virgins murdered..
for this world to feel fertile..
prisoner in my own head, take precaution, face like a battered angel.....
where pure light never survived the overwhelming, tides of black coals and burning embers..
My hearts dried out and withered.....
Sometimes years of sorrow is appropriate for followers of the darkside without hopes of tomorrows...
it is too late, 12:30 am time to die, i die tonight