Jan 08 2012
Mary’s Screams, Have Been Quieted
Blobbly ponderer of little girls’ screams,
Positioned and cocked securely the rifle he had won at the county fair,
And shot a bullet like an arrow through his homeland village,
He aimed aimlessly searching for an emotional release in a human’s stiff angry hair.
Storming in his mind,
Was a tornado of eruptions that boiled the temperature of a thousand degrees,
The little girl’s chants and catatonic songs,
Only contributed to the volcanic lava sea.
Blobby couldn’t supress his wrongly done deed,
He had shut her up in a moment of time,
Relief was granted upon him like water from a cloud,
Only to find his relief catastrophic, and not at all conciously right.
Blobby had let himself go,
And just as he had done before,
He followed his instincts,
Ran out the door,
And was never found or located by the villagers of Mary’s screams anymore.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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