He had a propensity to always yield
This man who now ventures aimlessly into the strawberry field
For all of it happened out of the fact how
twas so that
his heart was never filled.
With this now known, a narrative I'll build
He, in the fields, tilled
lands meant for seeds
that met the needs
of those yearning totally for epic destruction
To understand this, you must suffer a reconstruction
of the inward imploding structure that was his mind.
Outwardly, he was so kind
like a painting he saw
by an 11 year old
in a hospital.
It featured a man smiling
deposited over top hundreds of colorful right triangles, riling
the mind to madness
as the man in front faked away his sadness.
For he was a faker, you must see
smirking with a charming audacity
Split faced he was
with crooked jagged lines down the middle
like a cubist Picasso painting of a fiddle.
From the face, games like songs he played
from the same damned mouth from which he prayed.
Under the painting was the young child's quote
describing her intricate triangle bomb
It said, "Here is a split faced man.
He may be evil but he's also calm."
That, in all, was the painting in full
of the evil man who still calmly followed the rules.
That painting which the strawberry man thought of
as he harvested from the field lots of
strawberries
that he didn't even eat anyhow.
I suppose that was the evilest act
of this villainous man of chronic calm.
He had harvested a momentous gift of strawberries intact
just to release them all
to nothingness.
Twas incredulous.
But how could you hate him, anyhow?
His insistence on inaction wasn't importunate
For matters for which he was surely needed he was never late
He was just a harmless
