The Small Man

Beware the small man
Dressed in the dirty pinstripe suit.
He'll look at you at first as if afraid,
Then he'll gnash his teeth at you
And swing at you with his cane.
They say he collects children's body parts
Which he keeps in formalin-filled jars
On a shelf in his basement--
Little toes, limp little hands, sad eyeballs.
He's lived here a long time,
But he's a stranger to everyone.
Everywhere he goes, a cloud of dust follows.
Some think he started out as scum from the sewers,
And slowly, collecting refuse as he oozed along,
Formed into the creature he is now.
His eye is as black as his bowels,
And his soul exists only in your nightmares.
If you see this man walking toward you,
Don't turn around and run away.
He'll only appear like a phantom on the next corner.
Instead, shut your eyes, and kiss a penny for good luck.
If you don't have a penny, find something sharp,
Slice your finger, and offer him
A drop of your blood.