one of those topsy turvy poems

making the sky go black and white,

the bright hating lightening strikes,

a little girl, so scared, cries,

afraid of the eerie mice,

you have to play the game nice,

no cheating with the dice,

no matter what the disguise,

to make you cry, life always tries,

so sweet like bee hives,

but sharp like cutting knives,

killing love, evil thrives,

the world is full of cunning lies,

the sun so bright that it fries,

insects, so small in size,

as we sit, living life,

to take over, others try