Making My Presence Known
If you be a man of state of truth
You'll tell me how I came to you
Tell me how I came to you
Through her eyes I know no ruth
Two buried beneath the stable doors
I cannot form a way found out
For the rapists and dealers know me well
The killers will now know me well
I'll come to their door and slit their throat
After the torcher goes to claim
The life of the victims he has slain
By pliars I pull his nails out
And hammer his wrists to the oak
As never before seen by eyes
Religious or not they'll be crucified
Drilling holes in his knees
The scream, and pains of the suffering
Bring with them a joyful smirk
His eyelids cut out with dull scissors
And six inches of needle in left eye
Proved my point long ago
But to really make my presence known
Seven-eigths wood bore to his forehead
Then my hands are bloody again
My teeth grit hard through my smile
Sadistic I've become in my write and will
Now tell me Lovely One
Do you finally see a portion?
So small a fraction of what goes on in this head
Now I will make my presence known
To the one who hurt you the most
Adam's his name and he will die
In a manner in which I described
Perhaps even worse upon my mood
I'm in a Hell no one's been in
So nobody's to help me but myself
And I'll make my presence known and then
Then I'll be sane again
Copyright © Charles Grisham | Year Posted 2006
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