Of Birds and… Other Stuff

The sun was a brilliant scarlet

Upon the rustling brush,

Redder than a hemorrhoid

Who’s asking out its crush.

Within the brush are little jays,

Their feathers dark and blue

Much like the mood experienced

When one eats eyeball stew.

The birds were eating insects

So tiny and so green

Like little child soldiers

Or polytetrafluoroethylene.

The birds, thus having eaten

Flew off to sunset orange.

Alas, this leaves no conclusive rhyme

But judging by the imagery of previous examples, I doubt you’re disappointed.

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