Well, here goes...
Fingerpaints
Sweet little Alice, sits in her chair,
Combing her sister’s long yellow hair,
Though in her mind an idea lingers—
“I’ll paint Mum a picture just using my fingers!”
Alice fetched the paints out from under her bed—
To her horror she saw she was all out of red.
“I must have red paint,” she screamed to her Father,
“You’ve let me run out, as though you don’t bother!”
The dad turned and chuckled with vapid care—
Apprehension hung like fog on the air.
“I’m busy now Alice, if you don’t mind,
But look ‘round the house, and see what you find!”
“But I want red now!” Alice seethed in a fury,
“Why can’t you see that I’m in a hurry?
Never mind,” she smirked as she skulked away,
“I’ll find some red paint if it takes me all day.”
A thump resounded through the floor—
Ten minutes passed, and then ten more.
“Look what I’ve made!” cried Alice with glee,
“From the red paint found in sister Julie!”
Blood ran down Alice’s hands and face,
As Father rushed downstairs at a frantic pace.
The scissors were buried in the head through the eyes,
Resulting in Julie’s unpleasant demise.
Crimson lacerations laced ‘round her throat—
Oozing witnesses of where she’d been smote.
Just then Mother strolled in through the door—
Stopped and blanched at what lay on the floor.
Alice sat leering, sucking her thumb,
“Oh Daddy dear, what have you done?”
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