The King of the Ghosts by Paul Lucas Gerard M. Bruselas

How many teeth do you have?

count them before you leave

you will lose four

you fatherless hoar

there is nothing you cannot achieve

Do you want the moon in your hand?

im sure you can have it arranged

you never can tell

if it’ll be like hell

because you’re blind and deranged

Are you happy that everyone’s dead?

do my cold hands feel good?

you may be plotting

while my dead body’s rotting

to use every inch of me as food

You were always right! we were so wrong!

you were such a good host

the leaves have turned brown

you now have your crown

finally you are the king of the ghosts


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