Poet “eats all” grew this nifty
plaything; we toil after sets
of lines, get teary (splat!) with
trying to spell as we hit fate.
Sleep straight away, elfin tot.
Let not thy wise, fragile past.
frighten - lost, always petite.
Enter spotlight, safely wait
lest night’s wary opiate felt
as if to get the splintery awl
as if it was repellent - got thy
light of trite, wept analyses.