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Sweet Apple, I Am Dying

Sweet Apple

Sweet apple,

Gushing red,

There you are,

A top my roots,

Your juices drip

As the rain falls,

Allowing my once vibrant grass,

To shine again,

Throughout the valley.

I am dying

Here is my breathless, weight.

My eyes a glaze,

My blood spread about,

My bones lay stiff.

My other worldly existence,

Hovers over such a scene.

While tears cover the faces,

Of sobby on lookers,

Of a scuffed up vehicle,

Which lays with in a closed casket.

Pure Evil

A hallway of flickering lights,

A skipping girl,

With Red knees,

Her hair in pig tails,

She holds a porcelain doll,

Down the hall she disappears,

Leaving a poor soul

At the very end of the hall,

Gurgling, wordless,

Eyes struck with fear,

Throat slit,

Taking its last breath,

Just as girlish giggles begin to sound.


Dripping red paws,

Hastened breathing.

I look,

But can't see,

Eyes stolen,

Teeth individually pulled,

Cries laughed at.

Death near,

I look forward to it,

As the tickled man,

Continues to cut into my skin.

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