Don't kill that man for killing the children.
They would have died anyway.

Look, darling, watch our daughter play!
With green eyes shining like innocent new born words,
so untainted by the murdered babies rotting in all our stomachs.

She'll die soon.

Give it a few years, darling, it's just a phase.
She's so restless.
So smart.

Soon she'll die, and her smiling corpse will walk through like if the pearls I bought her for her birthday.

She laughs because she burned the turkey on Thanksgiving.
Oh!
laughs the husband, who laughs at her every night,
you silly girl!
And they will ruffle the children's hair and feed the dog, and they'll go to bed.
Work in the morning, after all.

She's so smart.
She's so restless.

Can't you see her dead eyes, so full of life,
enviably plastered on the living room wall?
I can tell.
This is a happy woman.

Dead babies start to smell after a while, don't they?

Look, darling, watch our little baby daughter play!
If we kill her now,
she'll never have to die.