The word springs from my mouth
Lips part just like blades
Tongue bounces north then south
Scissors was the first word
My infantile-self uttered
Since that day, my vocab
Has grown increasingly cluttered
Using my favoured blades
I resign to cut a few
But Scissors, sacred Scissors
I shall never sever you
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
The word springs from my mouth
Lips part just like blades
Tongue bounces north then south
Scissors was the first word
My infantile-self uttered
Since that day, my vocab
Has grown increasingly cluttered
Using my favoured blades
I resign to cut a few
But Scissors, sacred Scissors
I shall never sever you
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