Little late themed poem...
'Twas the night before Christmas, and nought did stir. Not the quiet tappings, of a mouse resorting to fapping, nor the loud bark, of a dog doing more with that shark... All stayed quiet, and nought was going on...Not the loud cries of a fox, being...
The devil's home
I was walking, slowly, through the shaded woods, the sunlight was nigh impossible to see through the dark, murky tree tops, each step like a step closer into oblivion. It was then, then I saw the house, ivy-choked, old, maybe even Victorian, and near...