While walking through a graveyard Halloween night,
I saw a dark and terrifying sight.

A headless specter behind a stone,
Guarding the spot he now calls home.

Fully aware that he was dead,
On the stone beside him was his head.

You could tell he'd been there quite awhile,
His mouth was frozen in a toothless smile.

Dried blood could be seen around the spot,
When they cut off his head, he bled a lot.

Wounds were festering by the score,
Worms in and out of every pore.

What did he look like when alive?
Now he's a home where maggots thrive.

A sign beside him politely read,
Don't just walk by, run instead.

I knew right away he was dead,
How could he be alive missing his head?

Why should I be afraid and run?
It's just Halloween twenty one.