The Puke Brained Judge

An unusually monstrous monster

There was a judge
Of writing contests
Whose tiny little brain
Was made of puke

And she loved the power
Over more talented writers
While claiming the rules
Guided her footsteps

Those she has burned
Smell strongly of bacon
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner
Her appetite is sated

Yet their souls remain
Innocent and screaming
Falling on deaf ears
Swimming in blood

Beware her masked face
Shun her smiling tattoo
Her coy giggles conceal
The stench of death

FOLDER

My Poetry  (E) Come as you are. #2034965 by Vanishing Vapor