Is It Poetry
Every one knows, The kind in Pentonville
you will find, lol...all in tears,
at night when all you hear are screams, they
will find you..when you are bad, bad, bad...girls and boys...
terrible they snip...you...clip..you..grippe you, never to let go, and
make sauce from your mind..fancy.. tales....
you cannot run..disbarred...so when you are bad, just remember.. they are comming...it is easier if you just lay there, to bite on your lip...
while by the hundreds they crawl over you...clicking on, soft Mummy and Dada..while you get the bad..
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