In eleventh grade, I learned the word
grotesque.  
It seemed to me that it was tied to human  
nature.  
All the lines we try to hide growing  
thicker.  

We are monsters, the animals to  
fear.  
Rabbits don’t need Botox, yet we rip off their
heads.  
A bit rude when you think about it;
unnecessary.  

I want to be old and like a rabbit when I  
die.  
Shriveled and happy and kind like a  
baby.  
One or the other: bunny or child it’s up to
me.