Thursday, 17 December 2015

she ain't my twins

four major cores are seen
five fragments in the tissues are considered mean
high grade infiltrating carcinoma is vigorously in the canteen!

she declares to be my twins
with none in between
what a pity she's only a figurine
been working so hard behind the scenes, literary unseen

i've made her pale as naphthalene
as for me she isn't my twins;
a wolverine  robbing my healthy sheen
yet I believe my cheeks are still pink as a rosy queen -
playing tambourines at her sweet seventeen

and she'll only living like a broken submarine
busy cooking her cuisines
in her tiny leaky pannikin
the old mean gombeen thinks she's the gangrene

i laugh out loud for i am the one who'll eat her like a margarine
she'll be paralyzed and stay in the palankeen
watching me preen like a sweet robin

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