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