And his guts
Shall order his teeth
To tear apart the soft bodies
Of all those innocent cookies.
Their sugar mother will never
Forgive herself
For giving
Too much love to them.
His guts are now nuts,
But his mother reminds him
That a sound trial
Is mandatory by law
Before an execution.
He shall wait until
Flowers grow
Over a panpipe tree.
But his guts are high
And the poison of his own confidence
Makes him corrupted in heart and eye.
He is watching that her mother
Exits through the kitchen’s door.
He will wait for his act of gore.
But as soon as he stands up
For his righteous quest,
His mother plays her panpipe.
He loses colors and calm
He sits down painting his mom
Evil.
She drags death away
Yet she knows
Sooner or later
His guts will order his teeth
To tear apart the soft bodies
Of all those innocent cookies.
Their sugar mother will never
Forgive herself
For giving
Too much love to them.