Oatmeal Pinata
If we all lived in an oatmeal pinata,Shaped like the mix between a giraffe's torso,
And the left of an upside down hole in the sky,
Parked ever so curiously, down by the lake,
Then no one would really even have a clue,
About what the hell was going on at all.
So this is why I warn all smart mothers,
Don't let your children write poetry,
It makes our mindless imaginations think of stuff.
That, well... would have been just as well,
Simply unthought.
BTR
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