Remnants

This is the house, the one the Grave Digger owned.
In back of the cemetery, surrounded by head-stones.
It's all boarded up but the graves are well-kept,
He'd always be out there while all the town slept.
Ceaselessly digging some souls future grave,
No one to the world, to The Grind just a slave.
All the graves He dug right there by his home,
Never had a marker, their contents were unknown.
Just corpses rotting in the Earth without names,
Secretly encased trophies He got along the way.
Each year He'd choose another soul He could encase,
Carefully, He'd stalk each one,in Time, until The Chase.
All of them were women, ripened in their Time,
Trusting in a notion that some men can be kind.
But fools they all were for trusting such a soul,
So painted and fake and empty as a hole.
He killed them all slow and always the same,
Little incisions to infect and cause pain.
He kept them well-fed for weeks till they'd die,
Rolling in shit and screaming and crying.
The infection would spread to the Heart and Brain,
Then, only then, could they be free of the pain.
They all now just lay there, remnants of the past,
Some graves and a house and the shadow it casts.
The Grave Digger's Gone, one day disappeared,
Day before cops found these bodies all buried right here.
Some think He died or ran away, but me, I know the truth.
The Grave Digger is still here, too,  
right now He's watching you.