Teenage PoetryHormones and rhyming dictionaries seem to go together. Let's celebrate this by publishing the poems you wrote as a teenager.
(
chthonic, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 14:49)
« Go Back
My Uncle SilasMy Uncle Silas was a psychopath,
and every Sunday, after tea, He'd
slaughter some goats, saying it was,
"for practice"
Occasionally, Silas would sing to us.
His singing was loud and drunken,
and it was incoherent, for He sang as
He drank His victims' blood.
Today, Silas has gone away. Mother
doesn't know where he is. She
claims that He never existed. But she
must be wrong, for I've seen Silas
and He promised to return.
(, Sat 13 Aug 2005, 16:23, Reply)
« Go Back