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May 2017
The only time I dared to climb those steps
They said that they would lead me to a den
Five hundred steps, that’s fifty reps of ten
They said that it would **** your quadriceps

Rotting leaves rolled their eyes as I snuck past
And said they knew that I was good as dead
They whispered what color‘s blood? I shouted red!
I told them that they didn’t need to ask

But when I saw the den I felt a shake
I’m pretty sure it came out of my heart
I felt like a piece of antique folk art
The monster munched—he thought I was a steak

So when I’m feeling itchy in my soul,
I grab a coke and watch the superbowl.
Written by
Jason Beiler  18/M/Pennsylvania
(18/M/Pennsylvania)   
180
   PoetryJournal
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