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Peas in a Pod

Jan 25

Mother, sister, peas in a pod,

Forgive me if I find it odd,

Your incestuous liaison,

Each of you play the other’s pawn.

 

Though you have set a private pact,

We know the secret as a fact,

You smile widely as you lie,

Shame on you both, truth meets the eye.

 

Carefully you pull down the blinds,

Together, straightening your spines,

Waited upon by foot and hand,

Preferring hot, rejecting bland,

 

Self-satisfied, contemptuous,

Not common like the rest of us.

 
 
 

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