There once was a carnivorous plant,
Who was tired of home’s tireless chant,
It rose from the soil,
Dressed in foil,
To walk on the lackluster land.

In the great city of New New York,
Where everything was made from cork,
Amongst reptilians,
A million gazillions,
It was a duckling next to a stork.

As the reptilians prepared for war,
Our protagonist felt a feeling sore,
The feeling of trust,
Fading to dust,
As all that was good was no more.

A deception planted in the mind,
Of freedom and peace was declined,
By a terrible war,
Death and gore,
Spawned by the vile humankind.

The plant visualized its tombstone,
As it walked the catacombs of Rome,
Eyes were closed,
The heart exposed,
As it missed the mantra of home.

Before it got to leave orbit,
It met an awful fate so morbid,
They needed rope,
Grabbed its throat,
Now sliced and sold at the market.

A novel
Of a thousand pages
A poem
Of inner pain and suffering
A short story
With a dreadful plot
An articel
Concerning death and horror
A psalm
Of satanic hatred
Still express less
than the unspoken
The pen and the blank paper
Left in our world
By the ones who ended themselves