Fog

Off the ground a sweet fog rose,

In the sort of place almost no one goes.

The land where all the wicked wait,

With sweet things to act as bait.

It’s like a candy land,

Looking so grand!

With chocolate rivers flowing,

And candy flowers growing.

Yet they lurk under every sweet stone,

Holding down their deathly moan.

As the fools come in for a tasty meal,

They soon find that terror is real.

Plump with candy they’re a sweet delight,

With candied screams in their final fright.

In the sort of place almost no one goes,

Off the ground a sweet fog rose.