Blue skies,
Young eyes,
Red lies, &
Black flies.
Pink pigs,
Little and big.
Sharpen your spear.
Cut 'em ear to ear.
Cut her,
Gut her.
Let the blood pour out.
As it seeps through your clothes,
She's dead, no doubt.
With crimson red coating your skin.
My God, how'd this begin?
YOU ARE READING
Tales From An Outsider
PoetryA small and growing collection of poetry many of which are based on various dreams (and daydreams) I've had. The rest are based on hyper fixations (currently Lotf) This will probably have multiple different genres. Horror, romance, personal thoughts...
