Well. If. For Instance.

    Well.
    If.
    For instance,
    That.
    We.
All Spoke,
In sentences that rhymed,
At the end,
With life in our pockets,
And blood on our seams,
I beg to differ your highness,
But life with all nothing,
But rhymes,
But roses and dresses,
Than life would be nothing,
    But.
    A.
World of a puppeteer,
Dressed in silk in rain,
Of violet crimson,
And violence sitting,
    In.
    The.
Rhymes of our words,
And life with no magic,
Means life with no soul,
With no childhood of wonder,
    Splendour.
    Gold.
Blossoms on cherries,
With apples on markets,
And cats on blueberries,
On puckered market stands,
    What.
    If.
Life managed to escape,
From our clutches,
Of nets and of sewers,
Like sunshine escapes from,
Rain lit mornings,
With the moon dancing on tails of blood,
    Guts.
    Gore.
    Never.
Cry out to the moon of your god,
In darkened hearts.
Of rain lit.
Rhymes at the end of our sentences.
With roses and dresses.
Your highness I beg to differ.
Life is grand.
                     But.
                            Death.
                                        Is.
                                             Better.