The palm reader

The palm reader that works from the pier,

She asked me inside her stifling booth

And looked at my hand with a frown on her face.

It’ll all be okay, she said in a hurry

But I knew that she lied as I scurried away

To eat fish and chips from greasy papers

As I scavenged over her potent expression.

I couldn’t quite shake the look in her eyes

And I wondered what horrors she had seen for me.

I licked at my fingers and scrunched the wrappers

And headed to an inn where a murder would happen.

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