he propped him up like a puppet, door creaked open
no guns, no knives, grumbling, cold drafts
he throws him at the first guard, once again the coats stuffing, lighter
fumble, falling, what the fuck, lunging
knives, too slow, ripping, screaming, again the red staining the floor, fingers
one left, scared, pathetic, piece of shit
slowly walks forward, knife slashing, to slow
forearm, snap, limp, knife falls, palm to the face, blood again
on the floor, whimpering clutching, he deserves this, for what he did to them
stomp, crush, crunching then silence