THE POSTMAN

The Postman's horrid letter
Has just arrived today,
A "Sorry For Your Loss Card"
Made out in your name.

The Postman's sack of horror
Holds terror for boys and girls,
Not a single epistle of joy
Does he deliver around the world.

The Postman's burlap sack
Contains all kinds of disease,
He smiling delivers them
Killing innocents with such ease.

His evil bag of terror
Contains bombs, rifles, handguns,
A massacre will soon ensue
Long before the Postman's done.

He's spreading around horror
To everyone that he can,
The astute learn to hide indoors
At the knock of the evil Postman.

No letters of hope
Does he ever bring round,
He likes to spread fear and death
Around this lonesome town.

Goodwill to man is not his way
Death and despair are his themes,
And when he delivers mail to you
That's all that there will ever be.

THE END
© Copyright 2021 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia