Friday, April 11, 2014

Poetry Time! "Ode to a Blobfish"

Your body is viscous, barely substantial.
Your face shows a life of sorrow.
To pick you up it would be quite a handful,
Like gripping some living beef tallow.

No one understands you, they think you're a slob,
A sentient mass of mucus.
Don't worry friend now, you're still MY blob.
Their hazing will be fruitless.

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