It’s time for a scary movie,
So turn the lights down low,
Let the atmosphere surge in weight,
Hear the faint whispers from the VCR,
Insert that old cassette,
The cultural id of an era gone by,

Through this box television portal,
The static has such horrors to show you,
Of masked faces and demented dolls,
Corny gore and monsters in your dreams,
Hooked chains and torn skin,
The ornery song of a chainsaw,

Even pixelated the terror feels real,
Your pulse quickens,
Transfixed as you peek between sweaty hands,
You can almost feel the wine on your face,
Don’t succumb to the fear child,
It’s only a movie after all.


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