Little Something

Why are mom and dad so mean
They feed my dreams to a machine
It pushes and pulls and stretches with power
Until it produces an awfuly strange flower
It can't talk but has a mouth
And it always faces towards the south
Eating clothes like dirty socks
It can even crush up rocks
The plant grows daily with so much speed
We are running out of things to feed
It's taken over and I'm second best
I think it's time to give it eternal rest
I find needles, pins, broken glass and tacks
And pour them in it till it cracks
When I'm sure it's dead it seems
I can sleep and keep my dreams
And I awake to see mom and dad's
Smiling faces are not at all mad
Maybe it was one large nightmare
My parents they would never dare
To steal such precious thoughts from me
Until in the mirror I see
The same machine hooked to my head
Making a new plant