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Meet the Flintstones

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I caked my flaw with flour yet it wont slump to the floor
Nor get hidden between thick thorns
Can a stroke of plastic straw make it disappear in a tree's trunk?
I am made a sojourner
An explorer who needs answers
Shame wrapped around my waist
The boisterous market folks jeer
What do I care?
We have all come to sell

Till selling grows wings
Everyone transforms to a bird
They all flee from my bed
Every bird should nap on a bed except its dead
I look in the mirror
But I am a bat
Despised by birds and even the minute rat

They approach
Earth-convulsing footsteps
Voices like thunderous claps
The cloud's smile retrench in a frown
The sun hides behind the cloud's gown
Doom's day
Who can save the day?

The wind scampering like a she-goat on heat
The atmosphere refuses to breathe it in
Fire blazing torches
My eyes squint;
A gulp of saliva is my last drink
Alas! I see
The birds are bats afterall
My tongue looses like an untied wrap
Cast your stone if you are not a bat

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