Someone Simply Had To…

     So sorry, but I've morphed into a roach.
     But hey, at least I'm not a silverfish
     since they're deserving even my reproach.
     But pardon me, I've morphed into a roach,
     so now I guess you'll not let me encroach
     here laying eggs wherever I might wish.
     Excusez-moi, but though I'm but a roach,
     be happy that I'm not . . . wait . . . run! run!
     Ok, since I got squished, I'm now a squash
     You'll find I make a succulent soufflé
     or something even tastier, by gosh!
     I got squished, so I've morphed into a squash
     more suitable for edible mishmosh
     than what I was before this triolet
     in which since I'd been squished, I turned to squash.
     I think you'll find me . . . hold on . . . oh! . . .

     Puréed to sludge, I'm now changed to a slug.
     (Don't blame the poetess — it's not her fault.)
     Forgive a little slime, not worth a shrug,
     just puréed sludge left by a passing slug.
     How about a kiss? or even just a hug,
     a little sugar?  Thank you, spare the salt.
     Like puréed sludge, I've morphed into a slug,
     no fault to poetry — it's . . .
                                                                *pulls the plug*


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