Aiming My attitude toward gratitude,
yet taking and baking it for work,
positive sweetened across the negative,
between those roses lies the bites, stings, and pricks,
while focusing on your bloody fingers,
vainly boosted under a strapped version of action,
greeting colleagues whispering about our boss,
minus the sought and needed recognition seduction.
You don’t get jealousy, jackass,
so quit pretending otherwise,
and please leave thinking to us adults now,
ha, finally hit a sore rib,
down all this time preparing,
by squatting your marshmallow statue of Lilith,
with a green cherry in her gaping mouth,
elated there’s a pearl no matter the messy details.
Irregardlessness of our moods and penchant,
we still love company and conflict,
hardly just any kind though,
like breakfast at that busy diner,
then running outside before paying the bill,
showing a definite infringement,
except yours is being conducted secretly,
over a simply massive profiting field.
Sharwrong's Song 