onion
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Behind the curtains of my eyes
Hides a glare
A stare
A lie
The carefully crafted façade
The fragile, cheap disguise
Behind a mask lies another
Feeble layer of an onion
Onions, so vile a food
Just the thought of onions ruins my mood
They should be outright banned
Instead of chopped, cooked and canned
Even preparation makes you cry
Eat one? I think I'd rather die
It’s hard, isn’t it,
waiting on the cold surface
for your time, your death?
You can hear your time
ticking away
quickly.
The ticking slows down,
as you are suddenly
