In a gruesome garden of vile violets, pernicious posies, and sinister sunflowers
none were so wretched as those mischievous orchids.

They flaunted grotesque beauty like it was something desired and enviable;
horrid transvestites of the flower world, flaunting what they had not.

Standing in limp clusters, exhausted from an endless charade, they lured small
children into the depths of a garden, clicking dripping tendrils.

First flattery, second seduction, third they thrust the tots through tall, triumph
arches wrapped in vicious vines and adorned with ruined reliefs.

Gnarled iron gates slammed shut the horticultural tomb, keeping the kids
completely enclosed. They wept and shook and stammered
but those orchids cared not for fear, mere marinating for a massive meal
which would, no doubt, scintillate in the sun with flora saliva.

Falling on them voraciously, not a bit of gristle was spared from the babes
as the orchids consumed their all and every.

The rusting black gates swung open in a gentle, creaking style to reveal
bevies of bloated botany slick with sanguinity.

In a gruesome garden of vile violets, pernicious posies, and sinister sunflowers
none were so wretched as those mischievous orchids.