Carrots Don’t Like Poodles

Look at this bodacious poodle who was made

because I prayed for a good harvest.

Girls are carrots; they call me “labradoodle”

because I will never have a thigh gap, Thank God.

However, I know my Breeder better than my

pastor. I look like Him.

Make it slowly. I lick the beaters of my creamy word-batter: “throw in

gobbling unicorns and sniffling wisteria comforters.”

Father asks why I hide my word-friends under

my mattress, but dad knows why.

Dad says a tongue that can type is penniless without

false advertising, now I’m a newspaper because mom said so.

Wait, I thought I could be president of the United States

or sing to jaguars like a Disney princess.

Was the world right to say my future is to be a Reese’s

in a grocery store until I graduate to weather girl?

Oceans say take me deeper than my feet could ever wander.

My plans are yours and You are mine.

To fulfill, you are made to be nibbled

the hottest boy in the world said.

I WILL NEVER be a couch again- You hear me?

I was not made to be wrecked.

Sugar bowl scratched that I was made to love. I

smile today, for I know who is correct.

Published by Alanna Backen

Hi, I’m Alanna Backen. Welcome to my writing pad. I'm an aspiring author hoping to change the world for the better, one word at a time. Let's make some good fruit!

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