You're sick and you know it,
so why don't you show it?

Or are you just hiding behind,
your paranoid dreams.

You're sick and you know it,
and you don't want to blow it,

But you're lost in yourself,
and only let it out in screams.

You're sick and you pen it.
There is no way to stem it.

It shows in your Internet blog.
Afloat on your own little log.

So if you choose to sink or swim,
don't you dare count me in.

With your sick little lies,
and Devil may care eyes.

Do you think I would fall for your game?
With excuses like yours, so lame?

Not on your life, would husband or wife,
fall for one of your crazy schemes.

So get off the line, you sicko of mine,
and leave the life of your dreams.

Reality is out there, and it will slap you,
upside that you know where,
if you ever exceed your means.

So lead the life you're living,
and not the life you believe.

And your sickness will reprieve,
to everyone's relief.

Sicko the Killer from The Horror Dome



More Poems

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Copyright 2012 © Ronald W. Hull


It's in the Water and Other Stories

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