Over the hill, and past the marsh, lives a quiet family of four.
A hardworking dad, a devoted mother, and two kids who do their chores.
They live on their farm, far, far from harm where there's no locks on any doors;
They live on their farm, far, far from harm. What would they need them for?
Over the hill, and past the farm, there's a bandit who tricks and thieves;
He stumbles and trips over tree roots but he never steps on any leaves;
He's quiet as a cat behind a mouse's back ready to sink in his bloody teeth;
And just up ahead, there's a farm with oh so many treats for this silent thief.
Over the hill, and past the bandit, there's a group of hungry cannibals;
But you wouldn't know if you looked at them, because they dress like professionals;
And with their lies and sweet smiles, they'll ensure that you trust them all;
And just up ahead, there's a farm with four savory snacks for everyone.
Over the hill, and past the cannibals, there's a mad serial killer;
The insanity in her eyes is just enough to make you shiver;
She stalks her victims for days, then comes around when skies are dimmer;
She'll make her move while you're asleep. Snooze you lose, and she's the winner.
But on top of the hill, in front of this farm, stands a shadow that's growing bored.
Watching and waiting for the father, mother, and son to come back from the grocery store.
A blade in one hand and a firearm in the other, I wait for this family of four;
I think I might go visit the daughter. After all, they never lock the doors.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Dump
شِعرSo I write poetry from time to time and sometimes just short stories. I've always wanted a place to share my work and get feedback so that's what I'm doing. I can't promise that everything will be the same or give off the same vibe but I can promise...
