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Mansions, Shacks, and Trees of Wood MAG
We sought out
to live the most
fruitful lives, and
we did for years.
Until the autumn
harvest; my foot
got caught in the
revolving door.
Life was peachy
because I realized
that we never left
our mansion to
begin with. You're
now a prisoner
to your Granny
Smith who keeps
you in your old
ugly poor home.
Ready as ever to
sacrifice my valor,
I burned down our
prolific tree. Rather
than greeting me
with open arms,
as always, you
pulled out your
chainsaw, love.
Or maybe it was
Adam's worm,
which you ate
straight from the
apple with your
eyes closed.
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