Day Fifty-two

Today's words:

Bull

Lunatic

Poker

Fad

Flashbulb

Picnic

So here we are: I'm tired of you behaving like a bull

In the china shop of my life. Acting like a lunatic

Is boring, as so is this game of poker

We play endlessly. It's not a fad,

It's an obsession with you, but you're like a spent flashbulb,

Or rain on a picnic.

And just like ants attracted to a picnic

So I was caught up in your bull.

But no more. That flashbulb

Has popped. I'm not a lunatic.

I know better than to succumb to a passing fad.

It's like trying to beat the house at poker.

And I can't keep this poker

Face much longer. It's no picnic

Living with you. If it were just a fad

That would be one thing. But it's not, and that's no bull -

I've had it. Call me a lunatic

All you want, just smile for the flashbulb

When they take your mug shot. The flashbulb

Will pop, but just pretend it's another poker

Game, with the cards dealt by a lunatic

(That's you). I keep saying it's no picnic

With you, and that's no bull.

Oh, if only you were just a fad.

A fad

Is harmless, like the light from a flashbulb,

But you are more like a raging, wounded bull,

Tearing up all around you. I can't play poker

With this. You've got to go. I'm going out for a picnic.

Be gone when I get back, or I'll turn into a lunatic.

I've decided you are a lunatic.

Your behavior isn't merely a fad; 

It's who you are. Even a simple picnic

Becomes a drama with you, and woe if a flashbulb

Pops in your face. As for losing at poker,

I know that would kill you, like a bull

Stabbed by a lunatic matador, while the flashbulb

Captures it all. It's a new fad, like poker

And frat boys, or a picnic in plain view of a mad bull.