Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930

Sixteen years of age. The suburb sets the scene
Sixteen years of rage withheld and concealed
Doors locked. Curtains drawn. Rehearsals begins
Preparations made. The axe gets a final trim
Shadowed figures came at night. The hands would
Clutch and strike his thighs. The kid would not even
Be weeping. This kid pretending he's sleeping.

Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930.

Kept within his young strained mind all this damn time
Not a hint at what grew steadily inside
The hate during prayer at supper and the surpressed
At school. The need to be able to strike back grew
Memories of fingers penetrating. Years of terror
Generating emotions functioning as fuel
When this kid walks down his parents room.

Parts of bodies found. The blood splattered all around
The result of the hate unleashed. Just one shot was heard
This suburb neighbourhood disturbed. This pained mind
Has found peace. In the backyard. Shotgun at his side
Difficult to identify. Sixteen years of age and dead
Sixteen years of rage to an end.

Immaculate Pinetreeroad #930.