Chair, you just sit there
A person will sit on you
But you just don’t care


Backpack, you are packed
With all the supplies I need
Come! Get on my back


Butterflies, you scare me
All you do is fly around
But you still scare me


Ghandi, you never fight
People might hurt you badly
But you just take them


Oedipus, too bad
You have killed your real father
Then married your mom


Raised up like a prince
Treated like the King of all
You end up being eaten


Alcoholic juice
The drink of the elegant
Made fresh out of grapes


Five, Seven, and Five
That amount of syllables
You are hard to write