Twenty-Six
Ripped
into pieces
Of course
the government soldiers
Didn’t
stand a chance
When the
doors opened again.
Didn’t
stand a chance
No matter
what kind of bullets
They
used.
Whether
heavy duty
Or
something they stole
From that
spaceship crash
Ten years
ago.
Whether
silver which they had used
For
slaying that werewolf
In the
Picc Vic Project
(Hushed
up of course).
They
sprayed their bullets
Like
confetti
Into the
swarm of the undead
Which
followed Mandrake
And the
rest out
And then
instead of running
Carried
on shooting
And
shooting
Until it
was too late
And twenty
more souls
Entered the afterlife.
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