When musing on all things quite dead
There isn’t much that need be said
Of film unique as it is amateur
The grisly Texas Chainsaw Massacre
It’s story simple, plot most absent
A fever dream, like hit of acid
The slasher tropes, we’ve come to know
Came from this film, made long ago
Van full of friends in backwoods town
Clueless of what’s going down
They stumble on a house most strange
But soon are chased by fiend deranged
This hulking figure haunts this place
Offbeatly known as “Leatherface”
And one by one they meet their deaths
In ways so grim, it steals your breath
Tableaux of horror that’s not been seen
Since crimes of lunatic Ed Gein…
The minds of such are oh so addled
As if their psyche has been saddled
With all the horrors of the world
The line twixt good and grim is blurred
To make some sense is errand foolish
There is no probing things so ghoulish
As entertainment, is there worth?
Could insights even be unearthed?
But as with all things burned in mind
The years to this film have been kind
Can’t help but drawn like moth to flame
We still seek that which mars and maims
As talisman to work like charm
Keeps foul on screen, and us from harm…
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