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Buried In Woods On a Snowy Evening My Apologies To Robert Frost
BURIED IN THE WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING--robert frost parody Whose woods these are mox nix to me, both dead and buried, she must be, to bother me, not one more time, but sleep forever; endlessly. Though thought of still as perfect crime, (it made my life a downhill climb) tis none the less, I must admit, the joy of me, all of the time. And smile I must, with thought of it, the slicing of her throat a bit, and struggling, oh! how she tried! whilst I enjoyed her dying fit. Her eyes now crossed, as if she spied, her life and death on either side, and so I gouged them both for fun, for every time she ever lied! She begged for mercy--there was none! Her legs were dead, she couldn't run, and with her throat cut, couldn't cry, nor could I, whilst I had such fun! Her pleas are still my lullaby, I've lots of time to wonder why, and years to go before I die. and years to go before I die. (((My sincere apologies to Robert Frost, the Devil made me write this poem. LOL))) © ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Copyright © 2024 Vee Bdosa. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs