It’s finally supper time,
Our nightly ritual,
The victims are already at the trough,
But I’m missing a vital component,
The broth is incomplete,
This little mandrake,
It’s just the ticket,

This earthy fruit of foulness,
It will sent them careening into fantasy,
A final dream for the little souls,
Hallucinogens to cleanse the pallette,
Before the poison does its deed,
This heathenry,
It shall be akin to sorcery,

Into the soup you go,
Keep it quiet now,
My little botanical homunculus,
Dont reveal yourself to them,
You may appear infantile,
A parody of a child,
But you’re a monster tonight.

Comments
  1. Carol anne says:

    Fab! ❤ Love it! ❤ very nicely done!

  2. hermanshermit says:

    Maybe you’ll get a Joseph out of it – gen 30:14

  3. MA 😈🔥 says:

    Is this a poem a carrot? 🤔

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