The Pig Butcher

Pickton pulled the trigger. 

finished her off. 

Her crime was bigger,

Left in a trough.

Squeals of delight,

Grinding her down,

Hidden from sight,

Miles from town.

Ribbons of flesh,

entrails, sinew and bone 

Minced through mesh,

Can’t hear her moan.

Empty roads wet with rain,

Deserted, discarded dead.

Silence screams p...

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