By Mark Desrosiers
Precious Precious The Precious is ours We took it from his finger After we bites it off The blood was warm and nasty Not like cold fish So juicy sweat! The precious is ours The detestable golden ring Is light in our palm As our heart is at having it. He grabs at us No… at the precious He wants it for himself But we mustn’t let Him have it We wrestle and grab with him On the ledge Above the lake of Doom We hold on tight to the precious Our hand in a fist As he pushes and We fall We will be fine As long as we have The precious We think as we fall To the reds and oranges and yellows bellow And join the black cinders as we char and burn We hold our hand above the flame Only one wish in our heart The Precious must be saved And we cannot see it In the last moment As our eyes fall below the fire And our body is Hot hot hot To hot to go on But the precious Is atop On our black cindered hand. It will be fine We hopes so We hopes so.