There's two sugar dumplings
called Tate and Lyle -
one just frowns
at the other's queer smile,
for Tate is different
to the rest of the sugar pack;
he harbours an overbearing weight,
an abnormal secret strapped to his back.
He's attracted, not to women,
but to tender men -
an odd manifestation within
that yearns again, and again.
O' sadistic Lyle knew this of course
and so was furious to the core -
for the little sugar brat
nursed a bleeding heart, broken and sore,
and as the pendulums of time
did eventually sway,
Lyle allowed his own brother
to be taken on a spoon, up up and away -
down into a boiling furnace of tea,
alas 'twas sallow anger,
not guilt, that Lyle felt,
his crystals of sugar bristling,
as he watched his younger sibling drown and melt.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
There's two sugar dumplings
called Tate and Lyle -
one just frowns
at the other's queer smile,
for Tate is different
to the rest of the sugar pack;
he harbours an overbearing weight,
an abnormal secret strapped to his back.
He's attracted, not to women,
but to tender men -
an odd manifestation within
that yearns again, and again.
O' sadistic Lyle knew this of course
and so was furious to the core -
for the little sugar brat
nursed a bleeding heart, broken and sore,
and as the pendulums of time
did eventually sway,
Lyle allowed his own brother
to be taken on a spoon, up up and away -
down into a boiling furnace of tea,
alas 'twas sallow anger,
not guilt, that Lyle felt,
his crystals of sugar bristling,
as he watched his younger sibling drown and melt.
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