Entwined in Confrontation

It was only yesterday,

That yesterday I let a dream flitter and die.

Twas only just then my sugar induced highs projected

A metamorphic man from cute huggable rabbit,

To the clingy attention whore man who could illicit firm annoyance.

I do try my best to ignore him when he is this soft kawaii bunny,

That I would love to snuggle against my breast.

He is superficial in loving me..

But even so, ever moreover I feel swayed to comply.

How is it to be in love with the fickle notion of being in love?

I know not now, tomorrow, or ever…

How will I escape this?

No one seems to value life for their hearts are replaceable,

Like the parts of a clock, a ticking mechanical device.

My, my the doctor is my mortician,

Patching my sorrows of death,

Denying my right to stop this eternal,

Tick, tick, tick…

I don’t feel sorrow or remorse to those who seem to die everyday,

How can I feel instant gratification to behead you,

Not once but everyday.

After my doctor has performed his magic you are restored anew,

And quite ready to take my next blow,

From my smoking rifle…

Isn’t this all just a game?

Where we start a war every morrow,

I the valiant general, you on the front line my opponent.

That time I won,

By blasting my dainty cannons to make you dance,

And gracefully you did to my delight.

It did make my cheeks flush a merry pink.

Or other games like having to host a party for all

Ringing hoity-toity laughter bouncing over the mezzanine,

As I descend from my keep to the game of verbal deception

Foul play afoot we may partake a game of cards.

With fifty-two lives to flitter away and kill.

When the night is done only two remain,

Entwined in confrontation.

Well Mr. Peter Rabbit you are replaceable

For I am reverently selfish to kill all of my cards

Or might I say, “servants.”

With the pallor of virgin snow you can run,

Fast oh so quickly away,

Before I order your pretty head divided from your shoulders.

Well wouldn’t it be so beautiful so wondrous,

To see that hot knife rip though the tenderness of you.

Child’s play is all I do,

But when I do see,

See the value of my companion,

The day I felt hot salty tears run the steep slopes of my cheeks,

I have then felt the sorrow of loosing you.


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