There sits a certain
love for a being,
An animal that dwells
in caves at night.
Could naught compare
to the act of seeing
Something as
beautiful as such the sight
Of you, my darling,
sweet, and cuddly bugbear?
You feast only in the
glow of the moon,
But your victims’
cries of pain, I can hear
Tearing limb from
limb, you care not to swoon.
Peeping through a
hole, I spot your brown hair,
It is grimy and
splattered with some blood.
Once I strip your
skin, I shall have a pair,
To hang lovingly over
my mantle to brood.
You would be the
greatest game, I insist.
Here he is:
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