Poems About Domestic Violence by New Members

I slaughtered and buried my enemies,
And my friends I kept in the fridge.
Their pictures hang on the tapestries,
And their memories sound like the kids
Outside the home of depravity
The house where I used to live
Everyone alive has capacity,
But not everyone caves in.
Still we all want to be happy
And yet we love mortal sin
Pulled on blue gloves for examining
This heart that I am stuck with
I
Keep a graveyard out in the back, sneak the brave-hearts into a trap, weave my ramparts throughout the past.
Hey look, Making excuses...

I slaughtered and buried my enemies,
And my friends I kept in the fridge.
Their pictures hang on the tapestries,
And their memories sound like the kids
Outside the home of depravity
The house where I used to live
Everyone alive has capacity,
But not everyone caves in.
Still we all want to be happy
And yet we love mortal sin
Pulled on blue gloves for examining
This heart that I am stuck with
I
Keep a graveyard out in the back, sneak the brave-hearts into a trap, weave my ramparts throughout the past.
Hey look, Making excuses...

I slaughtered and buried my enemies,
And my friends I kept in the fridge.
Their pictures hang on the tapestries,
And their memories sound like the kids
Outside the home of depravity
The house where I used to live
Everyone alive has capacity,
But not everyone caves in.
Still we all want to be happy
And yet we love mortal sin
Pulled on blue gloves for examining
This heart that I am stuck with
I
Keep a graveyard out in the back, sneak the brave-hearts into a trap, weave my ramparts throughout the past.
Hey look, Making excuses...

I slaughtered and buried my enemies,
And my friends I kept in the fridge.
Their pictures hang on the tapestries,
And their memories sound like the kids
Outside the home of depravity
The house where I used to live
Everyone alive has capacity,
But not everyone caves in.
Still we all want to be happy
And yet we love mortal sin
Pulled on blue gloves for examining
This heart that I am stuck with
I
Keep a graveyard out in the back, sneak the brave-hearts into a trap, weave my ramparts throughout the past.
Hey look, Making excuses...