We are sixteen and
you are big, big as half a door frame
maybe more
and about as deadly as your lemon cake
isn't mediocre
Yet, you are ominous with a presence
that fills your home, as does the smell
of talc, but
you are more powerful than we are willing
to admit.
Round as a rake and twice short
A pillar of grey in marigold and flora
When Glen said you were evil he didn’t
mean it
We were just bummed at how you exploded
like a carcathyst
when you found all our blow
You are growly now because “old age don't
come alone”, yes
we get it and no we don't want to hear
about how you used to be a wonderful singer
Still,
you are AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH like
THE DEATH STAR
and we are more scared than willing
to admit.
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