The war on terror
Might be coming to an end
But, for me
The war has only just begun
Sat in the light
Of the silver screen
I feel a terror walk over me
I fight
To reclaim my home
From the Octagon terrorist
Trained in the art of the ninja
Who has taken my sofa
The heart of my living room
Dies a little every day
I fail to face my phobia
Paralysed
I resort to chemical warfare
On an unarmed predator
I return to the battlefield
To the sweet smell of citrus
Only to see no sign of my enemy
Just furnishings displaced
I need to see a body
To be sure
To feel safe
As the light descends
Leaving me alone with my enemy
Stepping out from the shadows
This is it
The end is nigh
The Octagon terrorist zero
The pint glass one
Feels good to be home
No comments:
Post a Comment