O - The turtle's song

O turtle in her shell, in the sand,
Are you well? Might I coax you out
and take you be the hand and explain
I need to use you as a metaphor again

O human let me be, I am resting,
Can't you see? Is compassion not
a function that is nesting in your brain?
You won't use me as a metaphor again

But turtle, come and hear, have a heart,
for I fear that without you all
my rhythm and my art may be lost,
like the waves that the wind has churned and tossed

But human I am tired and though I mind
that you're inspired, I have paid my dues
to you and all your kind, now you must cease,
Leave me here upon the beach to rest in peace

But turtle, lying here, you remind me
so of tears that roll unseen within
the frame composed, behind the very shell
in which my companeros surely often dwell

But human, I am sure that I am not
the metaphor you seek in earnest for
I tell you that I haven't got inside me
those tears that you describe to me so snidely

Now turtle, I accept that you have only
seldom slept, since your shell became
a simile for every lonely falsity
but come, there is no need for pride, nor modesty

So surely you'll concede, for it's just your
shell I need, to place those harlequins
in turtle soup, I trust you won't object
to my melting them til they are wracked and wrecked

Poor human, you must stop before you end up
in that slop yourself - stripped of your illusion
your religion and the blend of drugs
that keep you sane and loan you shrugs

No turtle! Ask me why I wouldn't live a truth
but love a lie, I know from whence
I draw my light, my sooth and I accept it
It's the others I'm preparing for

(Those who might reject it.)