Her Worst Fears By Mik Tampold
A man came to my door today
At first, his intention was unknown
But I wanted to get away from him before it could be
shown
His hair was singed and smoking, blackened at the tips
His smile could’ve been contagious
If it weren’t for the sinister curvature of his lips
His tuxedo was the farthest it could’ve been from plain
And his skin must’ve been as white as cocaine
His bouquet was of black roses, their smell all-consuming
He grabbed me by the hand while I looked upon those flowers
blooming
“You’re such a pretty thing, my dear, with your face as
white as a sheet,”
“Come with me, and your afterlife will be complete.”
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