Buttercups and Sweet Peas Reaped

or    
     
The Stages Set for Grief    
     
"What you sow, I reap --  
after I fuck it over."    
-- a grossly obese Grim Reaper    
yet of an appetite    
greedy    
     
*    
     
Close listen to the tick-tock of thy biologic clock --    
Time ill at ease reminding thee to sow a teensy seed    
ere withered tubes and ovaries upon your womb come knock    
announcing to thy lady parts the chance hath passed to breed!    
Imagine thou the Horror on the hearing of such news --    
the sudden shock inducing straight thy uterus to faint,    
thy labia agape in disbelief to hit the booze,    
thine angry vulva cracking up to need a belt restraint!    
Plus picture thy vagina frantic in a drastic plea --    
soliciting but hosts of holy ghosts to hump it hard,    
while off online yet in a funk still on a shopping spree    
thy clitty hopped-up on endorphins maxes out its card!    
Till last on the acceptance of thy crotch's tragic fate --    
that horny old Grim Reaper cancels one more dinner date . . .    
     
*    
     
a dedication of Respect    
for      
the unsolicited Pain of each blossom    
nipped in the bud    
or withered on the vine    
     
a revolving helios sonnet menippean satire on    
the sowing of natalism --    
with its cycles grim of endless reapings    
scythed    
     
march, 2023 -- Death      
the braggart and brat    
still the accomplishment of parents    
prideful