Sentimental Onion
There was once an onion
Who liked to be peeled.
She could make you weep
As she undressed and
Took layers off herself.
You’d feel the air ring,
And wonder what’s that sting?
You’d smell the sorrow,
As if there was no tomorrow.
She could make a tear roll,
Without a pinch in her soul.
But you’ll have to suffer through it,
Or you’ll have to admit
That you’re what you think you’re not,
A sentimental onion about to rot.













