A sticky red flows through the rooms,
A corridor full of pink balloons.
A box of chocolates, sickly sweet,
Forewarns of future sickly teeth.
One needs to fill the hungry O's,
And palliate their aching souls.
A sugar sweetness is the thing
To take the role of love and king.
Like Lear, this day attempts to bake
A spiritual state into a cake--
Attempts to try, with all its might,
To mold love out of rosy light.