Terror Alert
Look out
I'M on the loose
Nothing can hold me back
Try to cook that goose.
Life is my corridor to fame
It's all in a sack
I'M not to blame
My mental state
Is all screwed up
That is upon my china plate
So as I sup
It's all screwed up
What to taste
what to trust.
For those who make terror
Don't under estimate
The terror you'll feel
Is naught but your fate.
poem by John Shea
Added by Poetry Lover
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