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Buttercups and Sweet Peas Reaped

or The Stages Set for Grief "What you sow, I reap -- after I fu*k it over." -- a grossly obese Grim Reaper yet of an appetite greedy * * * Close listen to the tick-tock of thy biologic clock -- Time ill at ease reminding thee to sow a teensy seed ere withered t*bes and ov*ries upon your w*mb come knock announcing to thy l*dy p*rts the chance hath passed to bre*d! Imagine thou the Horror on the hearing of such news -- the sudden shock inducing straight thy uter*s to faint, thy lab*a agape in disbelief to hit the bo*ze, thine angry vulv* cracking up to need a belt restraint! Plus picture thy v*gina frantic in a drastic plea -- soliciting but hosts of h*ly gh*sts to h*mp it hard, while off online yet in a funk still on a shopping spree thy clit*y hopped-up on endorphins maxes out its card! Till last on the acceptance of thy cr*tch's tragic fate -- that h*rny old Grim Reaper cancels one more dinner date . . . * * * a dedication of Respect for the unsolicited Pain of each blossom nipped in the bud or withered on the vine a revolving helios sonnet menippean satire on the sowing of natalism -- with its cycles grim of endless reapings scythed march, 2023 -- Death the braggart and brat still the accomplishment of parents prideful