The Perfect Object

This thought thankfully comes to mind.
Of an ugly form, that’s filled with life.
Like a sponge placed on a pool of water.
It will grasp knowledge, it shall bind.
Locked in with the spine, like husband and wife.
Snap! Went control like mother and daughter.

The grind beef will throb, and swell.
Calculating the world’s width and time.
With thoughts, greater than thousands of seas.
That tells lips, to move and tell.
Wasting such a gift will be a crime.
It will sting, like the black cloud of bees.
So use it, to open grate doors.