Crazy Ken and Barbie,
butchers of the brightest stars,
the sweet innocents that couldn’t escape,
missed and mourned in grassy graves.
Interrupting the peace of the night,
the monsters of the moors scar the unsuspecting parents,
the kind of people who just do their best and never imagine that evil had its eye on their children.
There’s no such thing as an innocent accomplice,
no softer description to be doled out for the ones who insist they were following orders, and considered resisting.
It’s not enough to be apprehensive,
if you open the gates and let hell walk the Earth.
It’s not enough if you dance with the devil, at a distance, because you’re still too close, too compliant,
your hands are bloody and you are just as depraved.
Don’t you see what you’ve done?