Ripper

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short horror-like poem I wrote when I was sixteen. Just thought I would share for my first publish.

Submitted: February 04, 2015

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Submitted: February 04, 2015

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I was but a child of age three I had many siblings so few toys were for me Few friends I had, A freak I was I had to make a friend, I knew I must But soon I met my best friend Ripper was his name Razors were his favorite toy But razors were unfit for me, I was but a boy So he gave me a small knife He said \"Careful with this, don't cut out an eye...\" But a smirk appeared on his thin lips He knew I would play with that knife's tip My tiny eye was out and in Ripper's palm and he smiled at my pain I wondered, \"What has my eye given him to gain?\" He said, \"Continue to feed me and I'll spare your other.\" I asked, \"Then whose eye do you want?\" A sickly sweet grin on his lips. \"Your mother's.\" I took my small knife, and looked to see where my mommy might be Frowning when I saw her and knife in grip, I said, \"Mommy...come here please!\"


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