It's been a few years,
And I still carry many fears.
The game has been opened back up, so now it's time to play catch up.
The rats are caught and thrown into their playground,
Upon consciousness a letter is to be found.
"Tag you're it, time to go seek,
Listen to my directions and don't miss a beat.
Your four buddies are hiding, wanting to be found
Combine the different body parts in the outline on the ground.
Arms from #10, legs from #24, torso from #3...
Last but not least, head from #12, then you're almost set free.
Dress your friend on the ground with the nice clothes on your back,
Yell "Tag you're it" and give him a nice big loud smack.
A door will open that will let you go,
And you just played the game you ruined for me a long time ago"
The letter drops as he runs towards the yells.
Found tied and blindfolded is #10,
Legs chained up so he doesn't walk away ever again.
Our compassionless friend doesn't even think twice,
"Please please stop"
My childish games rattle on like a tick tock clock
You never foresee danger when you're ready to play.
He's laid down and gets his arms untied,
Friend sits down, putting a foot to #10s ribs,
With the other foot against his head,
He grips his buddies arm tightly which is sitting between his legs.
The arm is tugged and twisted, with all of his might.
Shredded off like the wing of a bird who will never take flight
With the arms thrown over his shoulders,
The blood dripping down his back makes him feel colder.
Placing his findings in the outline on the ground.
It's time for more meat to be found.
"I can see why, I can see the light,
My insides have finally caught daylight.
He showed the real me, a torture machine.
Mom don't wait up, or you'll be another cleanup"
One by one, the meat began to take form.
The old bodies newly transformed.
Before he knew it the final task had been performed.
Quickly he was released from the mousetrap,
I was eager to play with my new friend.
Pounding into the mutilated meat,
I still feel a bit of their body heat.
"You're a wold of light" She told me.
"I'm darker then black" I replied.
I'm tripping on my hundredth excuse
And i don't intend to turn back now.
With the leaves in my hair, I climb towards the clouds.
How will I ever find my way home.
Our victims deserved a last meal.
...My childish games rattle on like a tick tock clock