I guess we’re not friends.
She does not know where to begin,
a black stained heart,
that‘s wearing thin.
She ate a bear that ate a mouse,
turned back around,
and gave good douse.
The mouse ate grass hit with pesticide,
grew holes in teeth,
for words, specialized.
The kind of word that holds 12 letters,
3 of them known,
and 9 with silence fetters.
The mouse looked straight into her eye,
and easily said:
“you’ve always got a friend nearby.”
She smiled real big, then realized,
the day fell asleep, was again hypnotized.