The Gingerdead Man

The fires of hell raged until noon

I opened my eyes to see a red moon

The last thing I remembered was a left turn

But it was hard to think with this slow burn


To my left and right were cooking cadavers

If there was a heaven it had certainly been shattered

I was dead, I knew that beyond a doubt

But something reached in and pulled me out


A hand peeled me off from aluminum foil

Thank god I could escape that bastardly broil

My legs stretched themselves and I lifted my head

And then I realized I was made of bread


If this were the afterlife, I wanted no part

So I jumped off the counter and over the cart

The fourth horseman had won the day

But if I could get out, I'd find a way

This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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