THE ONION CURSE.

I was walking with an onion,
we were walking down the street.
We came across the secret place
where the tears and knives do meet.
I asked "Why do you always live for tears?"
They replied "Just too much on our plate!
We try to find out what's inside
but our ducts they flow so great
so here we sit, we drown our woes,
the onion victims congregate."

The knives were sharp and witty
yet reeked of anothers raw and husky 'fume
they could never keep a lover
because things would be assumed.
"See the mess you make you clown?
We are prisoners of your stench,
You've created a smear campaign upon me
and these cuffs, their tightness is immense.
My wife, she ran and left me
for some fork tongued spiky schmo,
I pushed her out the door enraged
but I still can't let her go.
You've ruined me.
You've ruined me.
I'm the last picked in the drawer,
I try to change, keep a clean slate
but you're always back for more.
Get off this street. We're victims
to this onions sick parade.
The crunch you make you say is health
but the mess you leave behind is great.
You say you are so good for us
but you're bad with your stenchful boast.
You say tear ducts need excercise,
well we'll excorcise this ghost.
Get out, be gone you leecher,
you've devoured our last hopes
of being free of your vile smell,
these tears, they can not cope.
Everytime we see you
we just break down and cry.
Get out, vamoos, you monster
we need your kind no more,
you bitter, stinging monster
who reeks rotten to the core."

The onion stunned at all he heard
weeped and himself apart he tore
A brutal and aggressive act
that was seen in his parts one, two, three, and four.
The smell was on all once again,
they never could be freed.
Their life was lived through onions
who turned it all to tragedy.
The onion wanted to be saved,
"Peel me, find my good."
Time and time again they tried
but the onion was never understood.