You pick (not)
I'll take a gun,
And shoot you in the head,
Or stab you 50 times,
Until your dead,
Or shall I strangle you,
With a cord?
And then dissect you,
Because I'm board!
Or maybe in your head,
Place an axe?
And these aren't lies,
These are the facts,
But you might pick drowning?
I'll drown you in the bath,
And while I'm doing it,
You'll hear me laugh,
Or what about fire?
Maybe then you'll learn,
As I hear you scream,
And watch you slowly burn,
Or shall I run you down,
With your own car?
And watch your blood splatter,
Across the tar,
Do you want to pick?
Pick one of these?
Or maybe I'll just shoot you?
In your knees!
NO, I don't think so, because I'm seeing red,
And I won't be happy until you're fucking DEAD.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem