Miss Goody Two Shoes..3 Extra Verses Poem by Shaun Cronick

Whiter than white,
Purer than snow.
A virginal saint,
You'd like to know.

Always the first,
To say how do you do.
How can I help,
What can I do.

Caring and sharing,
All day through.
When you are ill,
She'll look after you.

Never the bearer,
Of any bad news.
A heaven sent teen,
One to amuse.

She simply exists,
Her name I did choose.
I simply call her,
Miss Goody Two Shoes.

For she holds secrets,
So dark and vile.
She loves to murder,
With her twisted smile.

She is a sick bitch,
A remorseless banshee.
She's killed hundreds,
With gratuitous glee.

For I'm the cop,
Who's been on her case.
This Miss Goody Two Shoes,
With an angelic face.

She'll call on you,
So late at night.
Pretend she's lost,
So sad her plight.

You invite her in,
With such a thrill.
This innocent teen,
Who's dressed to kill.

She'll drug you up,
Half knock you out.
She enjoys her work,
You'll bleed and shout.

She'll draw you in,
Then cut your throat.
Over your carcass,
She'll dance and gloat.

She kills at random,
She kills for a kick.
Her jigsaws aftermath,
So appalling and sick.

She'll sucker men in,
By playing cupids.
And when they are drowsy,
Cut off their eyelids.

With razor in hand,
She'll cut and she'll splice.
She'll tease and she'll toy,
She's so very precise.

She is so macabre,
But no necrophile.
Each victim is,
A sick paedophile.

I will never catch her,
She loves her fun and games.
I text her very often,
And give her all their names.

Copyright Shaun Cronick 2019. All Rights Reserved.