What are you?
You are an excellent egg ready to be fried.
You are a meatball round as a basketball as hot as a flame, ready to be eaten.
You are a slow snail ambling across the abandoned park.
You are in the lions eye staring at the flattering peacock staring back.
You are October waiting for the scariness to take over the mist, candy chunks given away, costumes getting more and more scarier, it’s a mystery? Or not.
You are a lost boy, sunrise to midnight you travel, will you find hope, or not.
You are a deer travelling across the woods, until the wolf came inward to its pray.
You are the end.