I chopped down a tree

I chopped down a tree
To make an axe

Now why would I need an axe, you ask
Why, I chopped down a tree
To make an axe
To chop down yet another tree
To make another axe
So I can chop down more trees
So I can make more axes;
That’s how I earn my living
Ain’t nothing wrong with that

Still everybody asks me “why”
When certainly the more important question is:
Which one came first?
The tree? The axe?

For it’s gotta be the tree
Who started all of this
And I am just a victim.

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Doki doki

An axe behind my back — don’t really hide it
It just feels silly carrying it in such plain sight —
I ring the doorbell, hi, I’m here to kill you
But don’t you dare give up without a fight!

Come in, come in, she smiles, been waiting
Her fingers slightly nervous as she closes the door
You’d like some coffee, tea, no thanks
I’m in some rush, so let’s get down to the floor

Right, right, she hesitates a bit,
Some of her memories seem to linger on
With a deep sigh she reaches for a bottle
A mighty gulp of liquor helps her carry on

Let us not tarry then; she lies down quickly
And spreads her limbs. Her eyes now close
Breasts rising gently, soon to fall down again
Readying my axe, I strike a pose…

But I can’t strike. I can’t.

It’s just some fiction…
Why does my heart feel such unearthly friction??
I set my pen aside. Bury my face in hands.
Some thoughts need not be written, but stay in foreign lands…

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Inspired by Dan Salvato.