Show me the Band-Aids,
Otherwise
The blades from your cliché
Will mirror my death by the spread of disease.
It can’t be denied
That this Spelling-Bee
Has drifted away from its native dwelling;
Submerged within a hive.
What has happened to the milk and honey?
Where’s this Promised Land that was not without
Guarantee?
Teach me linguistics,
Life’s spaghetti with meatballs.
An Italian cuisine that we’ve cooked
And re-cooked.
Drooping, wilted, warped, and stooped.
How poetic of us.
Pity our altercation of nature;
The birds and the bees.
Their eclectic manner
Litters our trees,
But not without lack
Of our help.
Show me the Scotch Tape
Otherwise
The habits from your lack of fabrication
Will leak into our fashioned characters.
But then,
How poetic of us.
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