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John Wayne Gacy: Crawlspace
Category: Blogging
(About the notorious serial killer.)
Bodies buried under the house, Permanent grave, no way out. Strangled while your hands are tied, Beaten and raped, victims died. Smell of death, putrid stench, Lust for blood at last is quenched. Shovel helps my gruesome purpose, Throwing dirt on mangled corpses. Dozens of dead, limited space, No more room left in this place. From the bridge new victims are thrown, Addiction to murder now has grown.
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