Her eyes are blue and cloudless
Like the first bright day of Spring,
Crinkled in the corners
As she laughs and starts to sing.
“I want to kill your baby,”
She gently coos to me.
“I want to eat an infant’s flesh
“With a cup of earl grey tea.”
And I look into her gentle face
As placid as a dream
And suddenly I don’t mind as much
When heavy metal singers scream.
The Daily Travesty 