deepundergroundpoetry.com
Ring Around the Rosie
"Ring around the rosie.
Pockets full of posies.
Ashes ashes, we all fall down. "
I stop singing and frown.
This child, now missing their tongue and eyes,
Must be dead, for there are no more cries.
Bored of this victim, I walk to the other.
I decide to kill her, the child's mother.
I lift the knife, slice to the right.
Swinging with all my might.
Her head falls, rolling on the floor.
Her blood spills. She died quickly, such a bore.
Can't change it now. What's done is done.
I clean my knife, staring at victim number twenty one.
I stuff their pockets, ring them with roses.
I throw a match in the gas filled room while the door closes.
Laughing, I look for the next one to die.
"Oh, come here child, don't be shy. "
Pockets full of posies.
Ashes ashes, we all fall down. "
I stop singing and frown.
This child, now missing their tongue and eyes,
Must be dead, for there are no more cries.
Bored of this victim, I walk to the other.
I decide to kill her, the child's mother.
I lift the knife, slice to the right.
Swinging with all my might.
Her head falls, rolling on the floor.
Her blood spills. She died quickly, such a bore.
Can't change it now. What's done is done.
I clean my knife, staring at victim number twenty one.
I stuff their pockets, ring them with roses.
I throw a match in the gas filled room while the door closes.
Laughing, I look for the next one to die.
"Oh, come here child, don't be shy. "
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