The creepsome Bog Stalker
Ain’t much of a talker
But what it lacks in loquaciousness,
It makes up for in run-away-from-ness.
See, it will follow
(And follow and follow)
Searching for a weakness
To exploit and maybe swallow
You; who knows, the vegetation
Which is warped for their twisted beast-creation
Makes them hideous and horrifying;
You could imagine things worse,
but you’d have to be trying.
Made by Swamp Witches
(Who make up in craft what they lack in riches)
Stalkers are part beasts, and partly plants;
They’re more fun than a bed full of fire ants.
Bog witches their own poem deserve,
But this short piece might have to serve;
I kissed a Swamp Witch once, and ‘ware:
Their hearts are as slimy as their seaweed hair.
