RATTLER
they kill
the ones that rattle
louder they rattle
more sure
their death
a fact
Oh, the rapturous ones,
you who do
murder all
these creatures
as soon as you say lord
I am your ambush preditor
whipping up
a juicy cocktail
I am determined to instill
and strike I will without warning
for you have sorted me
by selection
no doubt
you see
me as your devil
think
I could well just be
pure devil
this my utter evil nefarious plan
not thing
delivered unto yourself
poems 2 die for 