I really don't understand,
What is ever so amusing,
About the shape of my hair,
That people find so confusing.
Why is it so difficult?
It simply won't grow on the sides!
It's still called hair!
Why do you insist otherwise?
No, I'm not a pineapple,
It's yellow, not green!
It's not bananas either,
That would be obscene!
So stop making up stories,
Ace, I'm looking at you!
Im just a normal human being,
So just let that sink through.
I was not excluded from my 'pineapple friends,'
Because of my human face,
I should not go to a pineapple plantation,
To visit my fellow 'race.'
I do not have to kick off monkeys,
Before they make me go bald,
They cannot actually eat hair,
Yes! Hair is what it's called!
And it's not just my hair that's ridiculed so,
It's my mighty Devil Fruit as well,
Suddenly the powerful Phoenix,
Is a great blue chicken (the hell?)
I'm not considered a cannibal,
If I eat a dish with chicken.
And when a sea bird flies on board,
My heart rate does not quicken!
I do not make nests or lay eggs!
Nor do I have the brain of a bird!
As the First Division Commander,
That would be absurd!
So, apparently instead of Marco the Phoenix,
The famed bird of resurrection and grace,
I am the giant, flaming pineapple chicken.
This reputation is a disgrace!
I should probably explain myself... This was a request from my little sister, because apparently everything I write is 'terrifyingly traumatising and sad' (or what my friend describes as 'super scary-serious poems about dead people.') Proved her wrong!
Please review, I would love to hear your thoughts.