One
Who
Is
Torn
©1982
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Jeckyl and Heckyl
in lab all day long
wiggle and jiggle
but can't get along.
Formulas, recipes,
tastes of delight,
snapdragon's toenails,
a bowl full of knight.
Lizard lungs, eyes of newt
in the same jar;
can't tell which from witch
nor whom I should tar.
Feathered they shall
for they're cornered by thee;
so slay them I must,
for duck soup I'll not be.
The battle was fierce
though the two they were bold;
they crouched in the corner
in each of one's hold.
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I slam-locked the port
as they gnarled at the door;
red dripping from keyhole,
blood starting to pour.
Each tore each apart
for sovereign decay
till breath remained still
in blood's vicious wake.
The spicing for witch
they are both made whole again
shall never be known
for both they are dead.
So lies the story
of Jeckyl and Hyde,
the man who was destined
to see his wrong side.
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