Sucrose, sacharride, & lipids
Nothing about this seems insipid,
Used commonly as an incentive,
Wrapped up pretty in plastic.
The light shimmering on its shirt,
Would not be out of place in a Kirk,
Sometimes dangles from a ole pine, completely inert,
Taste of a sugary acid.
Wrapping, twisting, circling,
A cycle that keeps twirling,
But secrets never unfurling,
You hide in the disguise of the placid.
Is there more to your holiday flavour,
Something that cannot be savoured,
A tale that cannot be uncovered without labour,
A limb curved, unspastic.
Gloves, hat, a candy striper’s garb,
A medical gurney’s barb,
Operating theatre crowd crows the abattoir,
Everyone we love sugar coated and wrapped in plastic.
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