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I'm already wearing my costume.

by Johnny Crimson

Prison-broke
for Halloween,
the sprits dance
around my spleen;
in ghoulish circles
they make good time
as tired poets,
attempt to rhyme.

A hollowed pumpkin
to hold my Jack
as whiskey brings
the good times back.
The haunted house
and Daddy's plight,
I reminisce,
on this lonely night.

Freakish fiends
are walking south;
and looks what's open,
bag and mouth.
I sit crouched
on this haunted street
just waiting for a straggler
to trick or treat.



10/06/2016

Posted on 10/06/2016
Copyright © 2024 Johnny Crimson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/10/16 at 07:38 PM

Imaginative and humorous, two of a long list of your admirable writing hallmarks. Loved the title, also.

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