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Zach Abler May 2014
I hide my giant eyes from cartoons
From cuties, a grin that of a baboon
A flimsy fellow in mighty ferocious words
Summon my self-proclaimed ridicule hoards!

Never have I ever had a single flaw
Struck you with my silver cyber claw
My dreams of growth with a single shroom
All trapped inside my  dark veiled room

Why, if it isn't Kurinar
Adored by one and all
Tough claim, tough claim that's not for me, that concrete tangible platinum call

I lost my case pleading for white space
To a noodler for a mother and her husband with a cold shoulder
And sister with doe a deer, horns and posthaste feet and a bunny-rabbit for a face

This hunger grew into a grief
To the deaths it pulled me right to the grave
This once brave heart now succumb to unbelief
Why, if it isn't--it isn't myself anymore

Now behold!
Before you, force-polished, self-blessed floors of pure imitation gold
A freshly-baked sugarcoat matched with my favored wasabi berry float

All on a table set before what seems to be too unfair welcomed by a cool breeze but stabbed by a sizzling stake at your rear.

Why, if it isn't Kurinar
Son of the sweeper superstar
Why, pity to this horrible lad
Destroyed then forced into a wheat facade.

— The End —