Better Run, My Dear

Better Run, My Dear

Status: Finished

Genre: Horror

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Horror

Houses:

Summary

WARNING: LOTS OF SWEARING

Okay, so this isn't totally horror. It's supposed to be fairly humourous also, but I probably failed at that- anyways, I would say what this poem is about, but all I can say is this- it's about blood, it's about gore, and it's supposed to be pretty funny in some way. Enjoy!
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Summary

WARNING: LOTS OF SWEARING

Okay, so this isn't totally horror. It's supposed to be fairly humourous also, but I probably failed at that- anyways, I would say what this poem is about, but all I can say is this- it's about blood, it's about gore, and it's supposed to be pretty funny in some way. Enjoy!

Content

Submitted: April 14, 2012

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: April 14, 2012

A A A

A A A


Better Run, My Dear

I'm sorry, my dear, but you must run now.

After I found out your acts were that of a stupid cow.

How could you do that to me?

How could you break my heart?

At first you just wanted to be friends, but I loved you from the start.

I loved your golden locks,

I loved your beautiful smile.

But now that you've cheated,

Your family won't be seeing you for a while.

God, your pleas sicken me.

Your crying angers me more,

After all, it's not my fault,

That you're a fucking whore.

The only thing I love about you now,

Is the image of you in my head.

Your bright red blood is on my hands,

You're lying limp on my bed.

Don't try to scream,

Don't even try.

Now that I've caught you,

You're going to die.

Your jaw has been broken,

Your arms and legs gone.

Next is your head,

But no blood on my lawn!

Your throat pours as I slice slowly,

And you're choked by your own blood.

The rain can wash away your tears,

Your mouth can fill with mud.

Your heart is next,

It is no longer pumping.

And although black and evil,

At least it is something.

Bitch, you got blood in my eye!

Your heart exploded with my bite!

I suppose that it's okay,

And I might forgive you,

I might.

Darling, the police will not be a problem-

I killed you, one more ain't so bad,

But any more,

And it wouldn't be so glad.

I remember when I heard you screaming his name,

I had simply come for a beer.

And my words as you cried and pleaded,

'Better run, my dear'.


© Copyright 2017 Wicked Beautiful. All rights reserved.

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