Marauding Macabre ( Hour 9)

The song rings out, a sweet melody of violence laced with the unforgiving butchery.

Steel whistling throughout out the rank ally way air, shots matching the butchery.


Her strike pure, my sight obscured, as crimson smog clouds the atmosphere.

For I, the audience of one, applaud the spectacle macabre, revelling in butchery.


As scene and curtain fall, my mind grows complacent at episodic monotony.

I desire a new journey, a fresh course, avant-garde introducing butchery.


Remembrance of days past, seared ever in minds eye, as branded upon living skin.

Of a frenzied scream, her demented laugh, lost limbs, once welcoming my butchery.


Time is fleeting as reality rebounds; some have escaped the purposeful culling.

With claw of hand and tearing human dentition, I complete the marauding butchery.

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