Suck it up, Buttercup,
it's not that big a deal.
Nobody cares
if it's real.
You probably won't remember
what happened to you.
Button up, Buttercup—
nobody will believe you.
Little suckers grew.
With every word you spew,
an arm outside me grew.
Salt spray in my eye—
maimed but didn't blind.
Eight arms
hold eight different parts.
Eight arms
carry eight different starts.
Grab.
Pull.
Roll.
Squeeze.
Crawl.
Curl.
Scuttle.
Ooze.
Eight ways I move.
Eight ways I choose.
I cover you.
No matter what you think,
I can recall.
Just remember—
Suck it up, Buttercup—
I can unbutton it all.
