Four Tines Blind - SCP Foundation

Feet climb nine steps and four

Feet bring him to my door

Hands pry pine wide

Push chair aside

Begins to chide

I cannot hide

Hand grimes a glass of wine

Hand grasps a fork and knife

I whine and cry

I ask him why

Mouth speaks a lie

He picks my eye

Line of tines clear no more

Line of tines makes it pour

Tongue probes my eye

Jelly globs fly

I feel him sigh

I want to die

Feet take him to my door

Feet climb nine steps and four