The Blue Balloon

What’s wrong, Balloon? Are you alright?
You’re looking, well, deflated.

Yeah, I’m fine. Okay, I’m not.
It’s kind of complicated.

Like you, I’d been invited to
this fancy-pants soiree,
then asked if I’d help decorate
the birthday boy’s buffet.

It all was going perfectly
till someone flipped the fan.
I felt my string unravelling
and that’s when it began.

I bumped against the chandelier
and rested there a bit,
until I heard the birthday boy
unleash a screaming fit.

“I want it Mommy. Get it, NOW!
I need that blue balloon!”
I knew I was a goner then—
the end was coming soon.

I braced myself as best I could.
The broomstick came and SMACK!
Pushing, prodding, poking with a

Thwump!
Thur-ump!
Then …WHACK!

I wheezed and pleaded, “Stop! It hurts!”
but they ignored my cry.
Then, “POP!” and pfffizzzzz. I fluttered down.
And so now here I lie.

But still, I shouldn’t bellyache.
Piñata, how are YOU?

Honestly, I feel your pain.
I’m pretty beat up too.