My poem is in response to poem #7.
_____________________________________________________ The thing, what, I have no clue,
Told me to sit on the knot.
I screamed and yelled, "Oh what will you do?"
Relax, darling, it won't hurt a lot.
Just a little snip, or maybe not,
It could also sting a bit,
Don't try to leave, you know you're caught,
Just try and realize it.
She came towards me, oh what to do?
I fainted, just before I thought,
Oh, Mom, why hadn't I listened to you?
The last thing I heard was "It won't hurt a lot."
I still screamed, my mind was fraught
With fear, in my dreams of a hellish pit,
I can't be sure, but later I thought
That the dreaded tree was in the center of it.
When I woke up, My mind thought, Who?
Who was the hag, by whom I was caught,
My foot hurts, oh what did she do?
I remembered her words, "Relax, darling, it won't hurt a lot."
And then, I saw, or at least I thought
My mother, she was having a fit.
"Where did he go? To Notting's Hill?
With that dreaded tree in the center of it?"
Later, when of her words I thought,
"Relax, darling, it won't hurt a lot!"
I think , Oh why did I do it?
Go to Notting's hill, The tree in the center of it?