Twister

Screams of silence fill the room,

I await my impending doom.

Checking my pepe gallery,

What is my salary?

For living in the same, wretched, world as this filthy garbage,

On the populi I will rain my carnage.

This existence is but a cheap whore,

It will bore and it will make sore.

I've got a date to keep, I have mothers to make weep, be more than a useless creep, like a frog I will leap into the abyssal deep.

Broken, bruised,

Beaten and abused, 

This mortal plane cannot contain me,

Only God can claim me.