Proud

He has enough flavors

To keep them guessing a lifetime

And never tire

Of what is yet to come

Smiling infinitely

As if his grin were made for a camera

Instants later his eyes blaze

Frightening to share a glance

Relaxed with a body as floppy

As a raggedy plush bunny

Suddenly rigid and fierce

Breaking his bones on bricks

To avoid blowing his top

The steam must be released

The blood looks more like water

And his laughter sounds

Like it should come from an asylum

But one would never know

Under this clever disguise

As he tries

To continue marching

To the beat of his own drum