Robert Frost styled poem

Before you read the actual poem, I've just got something to say. there ended up being two different versions of this poem because I forgot to copy the first stanza of the original poem into the words document I finished it on, so I wrote an extra stanza at the end. Once I figured out my mistake, I fixed the poem so it would match the Robert Frost poem we were supposed to be imitating for Creative Writing.
Just so you know, the second version (called Steve, Carly, Charles, and Harley:My Next Meal)  is my personal favorite.


(original version)
Feasting on the Flesh of Small, Cute Children

Who these kids are, I do not care
Only that their brains taste so fair.
Gone they are from where they once stood
Into the undead’s darkest lair.

To fight, they tried. They thought they could
Escape from me into the wood,
But now one lies without its head.
Eat them now? I probably should.

The others lie within their bed
And stay for the day they'll be dead.
They wait for me to turn and leave,
But I will wait 'til dry they're bled.

Their limbs I shall eagerly cleave
From their bodies; one's name is Steve.
A gruesome cloth of death I weave.
They’ll not live to see next-day’s eve.


(2^nd version)
Steve, Carly, Charles, and Harley: My Next Meal

Who these kids are, I do not care
Only that their brains taste so fair.
Gone they are from where they once stood
Into the undead’s darkest lair.

To fight, they tried. They thought they could
Escape from me into the wood,
But now one lies without its head.
Eat them now? I probably should.

The others lie within their bed
And stay for the day they'll be dead.
They wait for me to turn and leave,
But I will wait 'til dry they're bled.

Their limbs I shall eagerly cleave
From their bodies; one's name is Steve.
Their tears will fall down so meekly
A gruesome cloth of death I weave.

One’s called Charles, the other, Carly.
I think the dead one was Harley.
The blood will flow now, so sweetly,
And I will feast regularly.