Funnybones
I very much regret to say,
That Vezon has died today.
While laughing he did pass away,
With the dead he’s gone to stay.
‘Why’d he die?’ you have to ask,
To explain won’t be an easy task
Perhaps he saw a funny mask,
Or drank too much from a rotted cask.
In life he liked to joke around,
His laughter was a common sound,
So then no one it will astound,
We buried him above the ground.
Vezon’s bones lie in a tomb,
Drying out while in the gloom,
While laughing brought him to his doom,
He will not stop, we all assume.
At midnight in the cemetery,
It won’t be quiet; quite contrary.
For Vezon’s funny commentary
Is keeping all the corpses merry!
Rotten
For most of her life, Roodaka felt well;
Then she noticed a peculiar smell
A stench of rot, decay, and death
Came wafting out upon her breath.
In a few days time, Roodaka fell ill,
She was in such pain she thought it would kill,
So horribly her stomach ached,
As though with claws it had been raked.
In hurried panic, a doctor she sought
In hopes that her malady could be fought
The doctor came that night from town
And sat the poor Roodaka down.
The doctor examined but found nothing,
Roodaka pleaded “It must be something!
I cannot bear this stench and pain,
Please won’t you look at me again?”
The doctor sighed and gave into her plea,
He looked and looked, but nothing he could see,
He said at last, “I think I know,
Why your body is aching so.”
“You’ve lied for so long, they’ve built up inside,
And they’ve become spoiled and putrefied,
I fear there’s nothing I can do,
And so I bid adieu to you.”
The once splendid Vortixx was terrified,
In fear she ran up to her room and cried,
Her innards were ablaze with pain,
And she began to weep again.
And the next morning, Roodaka awoke,
She was surprised she had yet to croak,
She looked into her dressing mirror,
And let out a shriek of pure fear.
Her beautiful skin was all rotted and dry,
Worms writhed in her hair and gnawed ’round her eyes,
Rancid blood came out in a stream,
As she opened her mouth and screamed.
She clutched at her heart, the small withered thing,
Which beat like a bird with a broken wing,
Then something gave, and her heart stopped,
And to the floor Roodaka dropped.
Roodaka’s dead and decomposing,
To her funeral though, no one’s going,
For what no one had forgotten,
Roodaka was really rotten.
Edited by spyder ryder, Oct 31 2011 - 07:11 PM.
