Treasure Island

Robbie Squires

(7/10/1993 / Akron, Ohio)

A Heroic Murderer


Who are you
What have you done with my sisters?
Where have you taken them
Tied them up with daggers abounding

The killer awoke in the evening
He got ready for the big dance
Knowing what he had to do
Slowly sliding the belt around his pants
Picking up his best friend
Putting them into his pocket
One last look around
Remember the scene
Remember his town
Boldly walking out the door
With only his heat
And nothing more

A quiet town of Indians
Lives in great majesty
Killing their own food
Anything but a tragedy

His presence is not known
His face was never shown
He has no identity in this village
Living in the outskirts on his own
But by himself is how he likes it
No one to yell
No one to get their necks slit
But he needs the rush
His addiction has grown
He will soon make his presence known

Three nights later
He ambles into town
No one is up
No one is around
And all that night
He sits with his ax
Waiting for the first Indian
To walk behind his back
One is gone
Two is gone
Three is gone
He hacks and hacks
Murdering villagers one by one
Bodies laying about
Some in stacks
They have no means of protecting themselves
Soon enough the town is wiped out
Not but one soul still wanders about
And he is the killer
Looking for more to slay
He finds none
And returns to his bungalow
As he ends his endearing day

The next week now
In the next town over
Hes at it again
Murdering hundreds others
He spares a couple
Turns them into slaves
Makes them do what he says
“oh god dear help me”
“don’t let us die in the hands of Cortez”

He is king now
Of this barren land
Got a couple slaves
And thousands of bodies
Murder is a daily routine
Played with their mind
In the fields they can sing
Of freedom and happiness
And times before these
My favorite one was “Cortez, master please! ! ! ! ”

Submitted: Monday, November 30, 2009

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