If you were a rock, what kind of rock would you be?
Would you stick to a foot or fall on me?
Would you be pointy and sharp as a tack,
Or be one with your great big rock pack?
Would you be large and ready to please,
Or would you crumble and be one big tease?
Maybe brag that you were around when dinos roamed the Earth,
Or be smashed to bits and call it giving birth.
Would you end up really frail and bitter,
Becoming some clumping kitty litter?
How about your texture and curves?
Would you be smooth and round, remember, rocks, pervs.
Will you prick me if I touch you with a finger.
Or will you like it and let me linger?
Would you be in a collection of some collector,
Or suck up some metal and fool a metal detector?
Would you hide gold beneath or behind you,
Preventing thieves from stealing it two by two?
Maybe hide a body or something more.
Could be the Fountain of Youth or another trinket of lore.
Would you carve yourself into a headstone,
Listening for eternity as ghosts moan?
Would you gather with others to make a good bed,
Where any traveler can come to rest their weary head?
Would you protect lovers from a detection,
As behind you they hide with an umm err erection?
Or would you sit and stare
And not bother going anywhere?
Would you make rocks talk about you.
By not giving a whoopdi friggin doo?
Would you stand on your own without a care,
Or find another and make a rocky pair?
Would you let others get a good whiff
And the drop them off your cliff?
One, two, three...
What kind of rock would you be?
Have you decided what rock you will be? Are you like me and scared the blue guy has multiple personality disorder at his sea? Or maybe he just likes to play dress up. Whatever fills his cup. The cat will stick to being crass, passing gas with some sass and as always, being a little rhyming ass.
Experience spring, have a fling.