It Isn't Natural
The strange fruit of unnatural unions
Are banished quite far beneath Earth,
And deep, hidden caverns still echo
To the sounds of a terrible mirth.
Yet all creatures still need acceptance,
Even the cowering mouse,
Which I patiently play with for hours on end
Before rewarding it well with my mouth.
Sometimes a natural feeling
Turns into a terrible thing,
And scales mix with fur and with feathers,
And beasts from the water grow wings.
And furred things grow beaks and sharp talons,
And feathered get covered with scales,
While fins sprout from slithering serpents,
And little hands wriggle on whales.
So even though everything's equal
And opportunities come as they may,
It is wise to surmise that some things should not be,
And say no at the end of the day.