When Life Gives You Lemons

When life gives you lemons
Make lemonade they say.
But lemons are jaundiced
With their pockmarked skin
And waxy pores
Like an ill new born
Squalling in its own sour juices,
Yellow like poison.

And the lemonade,
It bubbles up your nose
Like Indians poking your
Nasal passages with
Spears tied with malicious gas,
It doesn’t even taste like lemons,
Just of flavouring number
Something or other.

So, please life,
Don’t give me lemons,
Just leave me my life,
Don’t drip, drip, drip that cloudy mixture
Into my eyes that squeeze
I am finally happy
And need anymore
Bitterness.