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by Mark Abrahamson

The TV is programmed with music so chill
Spine tingling horror to excite and to thrill

Behind fingers and cushions you make yourself peek
As the slasher creeps closer the music it peaks
To a thrilling crescendo as nerves become frayed
Will the hero arrive here, his heroine to save?

Rapid bangs on front door make your heart skip a beat
Is a bogeyman out there? Or some child, trick or treat?

How you wish you'd left lights on as the shadows they leap
With all sorts of goblins as on tip-toe you creep
Through the shadowy hall to the firm, sturdy door
TV heroine shrieks and your feet leave the floor

Heart thumping faster than a runaway train
The door knocker hammers a murderous refrain

Oh now how you rue staying at home all alone
As the telly it screams chilling you to the bone

But grown up you are and should never be scared
Turn the doorknob and see but still be prepared
To run for your life if an axe you should sight
Flee past the madman sprint into the night

The bravado now gone all resolve has just run
Away, off in flight. Halloween, is it fun?

Dry mouth, beating heart knocker hammering tattoo
What you really need now is a hero for you


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