It Is Not the Purple One

You have chosen the wrong one again
yet refuse to admit it

I am so frustrated
with the bad puddings you make

That dog is staring at us
with eyes the colour of amber

The bridge looms nearer
as the wall stops swaying

I found a peach
in the arms of a fellow ruffian

Her mother’s physician
is not addicted to strawberries

At the end of the night
the crow will abscond with the menu

My first thought is
there is a puppy inside you

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