I'll eat you out. Morsel by morsel.
I'll tear you to shreds.
Reduce you to dust. Tapered to the bone.
Reluctantly you run.
Flee little lamb, the chase is half the fun.
Run little lap dog, your downfall is 'round the corner.
Stumble and fall, burn to ashes.
We all fall down.
YOU ARE READING
The Book Of Poems
PoetryAccept what is out of your control. All rights reserved. Not to be copied or distributed without written consent.
