The wild things

The wild things

 

Try, and stay away from where the wild things play,

They’ll chase you down; they might devour you with one bite.

They’ll make you think they just want to play,

But then they’ll cook you, over an open fire,

Everything tastes better that way, they’ll say.

You’ll try to escape, but how,

You think to yourself.

You decide to tell them a story,

It’s about how many more and wonderfully juicy kids there are,

They’ll ask, “Why are you telling us this secret?”

Well that’s what friends do, you’ll say with a smirk.

They tie you up, and run to the magical place you’d told them about,

With all the scrumptious children.

But what they didn’t know, is that you aren’t too fond of hygiene,

So therefore your fingernails were so long and sharp,

That you cut right through that thick rope,

And escaped.

“I am the king of the Wild things” you’ll shout,

And runaway with excitement and enthusiasm.