It’s time to run through the fingers again,
Time to bid goodbye to mercy and cruelty to rain,
Lover is done and the kid is taken care of,
Son now comes to the axe and to the face off.
Arguing with this, I recite to carry on to his demise,
A son who had it all to succeed, but self destruction made him light hearted mice.
Failing to live up to his potential, now we forbid him to be happy,
Let the party begin gentlemen, I promise the third edition just like previous two, to be very grippy.
We offer the feet's first to be cut in two,
One would be kept in museum and other would help in making insanity's glue,
Then comes nails, which crawled through hesitation,
Breaking them to the pain, will be the party's second destination.
Then the chest is dug to take out the heart,
It tops to the list of my butcher, it is one hell of a chart,
Going for the shoulders, are now alone to be punished in rage,
We take the bones inside; crush them under our tripping, relieving from the god damn cage,
Eyes would be burnt and melted to be the dessert,
Let the party get on high, the wine is the next intoxicating method,
Opening the skull and counting veins, now we call for snacks,
If it looks too much to eat, keep the extra pieces in the rack.
Guest list is big; I am expecting more footfalls, more to come,
Dance floor is made of ashes, the pool is in blood; it’s sealed its done,
Couple entry starts now and the bowls carry the myth of son's existence,
Story of his life would now be forgotten, so will be his fucking resistance.
Are you enjoying, the scream and the agony that is running through,
Let us all be together, be a part of this brutal crew,
People,
If you liked this invitation and can visualize what it could and might be,
Then don't keep me waiting, as I roll out this party invite for you to see,
Date is today, hurry up now,
The son is here, the son is here...
Copyright @ Sandeep Verma
0 comments:
Post a Comment