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Halloween horror grips the soul that tries to flee the demon witch; it's a trap set by a gargoyle droll who's a lurker that digs the ditch to hold the corpse of a black raven, slashed by Frankenstein's wife. It was a delicacy she'd been cravin' 'fore Mr. F. faced uncertain strife. The spell was broken at midnight, not 'fore blood colored moonlight.
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
Grip of Horror (Halloween poem)
Halloween horror grips the soul that tries to flee the demon witch; it's a trap set by a gargoyle droll who's a lurker that digs the ditch to hold the corpse of a black raven, slashed by Frankenstein's wife. It was a delicacy she'd been cravin' 'fore Mr. F. faced uncertain strife. The spell was broken at midnight, not 'fore blood colored moonlight.
© Carmela M. Patterson, All rights reserved
carmela-mel-patterson
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
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