What's that?
Speak up!
Tell us about the snake-thing.
A snake-thing.
He stopped, he licked his lips.
Ever so big.
Where?
You couldn't have a beastie, a snake-thing.
Did you hear that?
In the woods.
I'm scared.
But there isn't a beastie!
We'll make sure when we go hunting.
Wait!
I'll come too.
Sorry.
You can't come.
Except the hunters.
What d'you mean?
I suppose, I might kill,
by myself...
hey, I can't see anything posted here. You need to fix this.
ReplyDeletesorry i forgot my password, :P i posted the poem on my blog again. Now you should see it clearly.
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