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He was a young man, his life just begun
but never felt young
His parents hurt him, and stole his childhood
beat it out of his young mind
Dad was a veteran and alcoholic
and so violent
Mother just sat there watching the TV
her only words hate
she paid no notice to him
he couldn't love her
if she died he wouldn't care
So now he's so cold with no emotion
And no one matters
All that he can feel, merely physical
he thinks that is emotion
(He feels nothing)
Day to day lusting after flesh
Feeling satisfied with penetration
All the girls in his mind
Fantasy merely postpones his wrath
Acting out, soon follows
Walking dead women waiting to die
Fingernails embedded deep into flesh
Straddling his body gyrating slowly
Soft hair flows over ripe breasts swaying gently
Her screams of ecstasy, not fear this time
Digging through her garbage, searching for something
Picking through remnants of her daily patterns
Discarded tampon, telephone bill stub, last night's dinner
His heart growing fonder with every load he takes
Dreaming of what is to come for this girl
Her broken ripped flesh, swollen on his penis
Upon his discovery of her depressive state of existence...her sorrow
His attention to her growing stronger, more obsessive...she's his
His collection now nearing completion
He knows everything
His parents are blamed, his misperception
They created his problems
His mind is feeble, like a rape-machine
Sex is what drives him
His first is special, and so beautiful
She doesn't know what's coming...
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