Blood like fire, quick to spread.
drag me deeper under head...

Big bug,
Small bug...

There is a boy who swings in the park,
Every single day...

The pitchers that i see,
There on the wall for you...

There she is her velvet skin
eyes like that of a precious gem...

This is my first not rhyming poem so bear with me.
Look me in the eyes, and tell me what you see...

In the trees they swing and sway,
nightmare creatures misbehave...

People try to control her,
They make her play along...

You see him there, there he stands.
Eyes like spiders wondering strands...

I hold the stem with my finger tips,
Spin it round and round...

Sometimes you think your falling,
To where the departed go...

Stupid cricket,
Please just leave...