Black as Night…

Rhetorical questions don’t please me much,
especially when they’re filled with disdain.
Suffering caused without a single touch,
does it give you pleasure to cause such pain?

If you must know, they are not much alike;
one has black, sleek feathers, and shiny wings;
the other, too big to fit on a bike,
could be where Shakespeare sat creating things.

This question, first heard in Alice’s tale,
with a life of its own, appears elsewhere.
What kind of truths could this question unveil?
I don’t think anyone should give a care!

As you ask, the condescending tone heard,
how a writing desk is like a black bird.