Just because the rose beats our blood,
Why does the violet come second?
I’m sure the lizard loves it warmer
Cold. His heart flies in a square, blue box.
They should sacrifice blue ribbons in
Stead. Martyrdom looks clean, sans crimson,
Sans blood at all, then we’re murdering
Statues, already dead, beaten me-
Tal, standing without legs or organs.
Sheba, just part of the whole shebang,
You look so depleted, staunchly there,
Staunchly not, and somehow I wonder
Whether you’d like the b or the a
Better, or nursery rhymes at all.
-BRD