SHhhhh, stoke the fire,

pull up a place,

Gaze upon my baby’s face,

Grab a log and take a seat,

Let’s tell some stories,

let’s talk of freaks,

These are my boys,

Don’t be afraid,

Let’s take someone else,

Into the glade,

Keep minds open,

And keep them keen,

Between them and I,

We’ll rip out your spleen,

The baby that sits,

in the pram is not nice,

He put his mothers,

Heart upon ice,

But I loved him and held him,

And as God would have said,

A  mother’s child,

should always be fed,

One day we slept,

His head in my neck,

He watched

’til my breath,

Came close to death,

He tilted his hips,

and pushed up his ribs,

And put his lips on,

Where my pulse lives,

Baring his fangs and rolling his eyes,

He sunk his teeth in,

To my jugular line,

He ripped it apart,

and shredded my veins,

He gnawed and he thrashed,

like the insane.

The thing that was quiet,

That nobody knew,

His father was dead,

When mother was due,

Zombie baby,

had only one way,

And that was solely,

To take life away.

Now we connect,

like pieces of pie,

But I only wish,

That I could have died.

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