Murder Poem by Elia Michael
Murder
I squirt some washing-up Fairy
Into my small washing-up bowl
Many bubbles light and airy
With glee they frolic and gambol
They're globular with an oil sheen
I wonder what their purpose is,
Do they solely exist to clean?
Their relatives create pop's fizz!
Anyway, I'm about to put my hands in
When they squeal with loud cries of fear
Giant digits covered in skin
Will kill them all - I shed a tear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/23/2024 3:56:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
