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Don’t have nightmares

 

She was sat in the bath when the

Suds turned to blood, when the taps

Started pouring unspeakable Yuk!

When the soap dish cried out, ‘Look,

The showerhead’s grown fangs’ and

The bubbles were plagued by a wet

Severed hand.

 

A towel left the door where it hung

On a hook, it pranced and it danced

To the bath where it shook, where it

Bowed and it curtsied hem sweeping

The floor but when the lady reached

Out it flew back to the door.

 

The hour it was late and the time

Quite unknown, but the date she

Recalled had a three and a one.

A three and a one, a mystery for

Sure, but not to a witch out to

Settle a score.

 

The girls had been rivals since school

So they say, one was unruly the other

A saint. They fell out one autumn

When the temperauture dropped, the

Saint got the boy, the witch got the

Chop.

 

© Joseph G Dawson
24/10/2018

 

 








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