He Was Just a Deadhead: Mystic
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In a scary nightmare, I woke in a mystical place
where my old Singer floated next to your face
You wore that smirk that always made me twitch
so I used that old machine, and I began to stitch
your lips together to prevent you from lying
and your eye lids shut to keep you from spying
Were my shears too sharp? Was it I who beheaded you?
OOPS! Not a slipsy. It was something I meant to do.
I was able to find a bobbin, and a needle to thread
and my seams will assure that you remain dead.
I used your hair for hemming black fabric scraps
and fashioned a sort of shroud without holes or flaps
I'll not take a chance that this nightmare might return
so I will set you ablaze; your ashes sealed in an urn.
If this is only a dream, then I've not committed a sin,
but thinking about your schemes and that hidious grin,
I confess I am considering it to be a very cunning idea.
No more nightmares about a deadhead will I need to fear
*With apologies for being a bit freaky, but the photo took control.*
9/17/2017
Image Me A Poem~Image 2
Host: Mystic Rose
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017
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