I deserve passion, like Mad hatters
fashion; confusion intrusion,
ill suited bruised son. To Chatters
the fat dears, who dreamt of cheetahs.
Cheddar my ladder, I had to cruise home.
For the smother to memedom,
where the rhymes dare to brittle.
I deserve love, from my elvish maiden;
smitten by orcs, the occasional Vedalken.
Somebody to cherry pick brazen,
when the partner in crime, eyes raisins
and thighs oaken. Many oaths there broken.
Where the songs go dazing and grazing.
I deserve care, to be held with regard;
to be ties in disputes and contemptuous grins.
Spitfire incursions, poisoned remarks –
when point taken for the glorious respark.
For the menus, what I dream agrieved;
to be together with some eleven prime;
when the words melt and become enthralled.
No comments:
Post a Comment