Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2016
Once the dust has settled, and the last few have been picked off.
The people that have lasted this long have no hope.
A light shines down on their tyred faces.
It is Jesus and his angels.
he goes to them and talks to the people.
but little did they know this was not Jesus, this was evil.
as the outer skin of the holy being starts to melt away, away from the red bones and burnt flesh of the underlying shell.
it is Satan our lord our savour. they try to run and hide from the powerful beast that is laughing inside.
scrumptous chicken
Written by
scrumptous chicken  adelaide, SA
(adelaide, SA)   
366
     A Slow Heyoka, Jocie and Viseract
Please log in to view and add comments on poems