November was the month of creative writing, so here’s some poetry :).
Immune to time,
A piece for a dime,
Melted to slime,
Not really a crime.
Holes in its chest,
Holes in its back,
Smelly and old,
Not here to stay gold.
A lifetime of mold,
Trapped in the cold,
Waiting to be sold,
Not a sight to behold.
Immune to time,
A piece for a dime,
More a nightmare than a dream,
No way to redeem.
CHEESE.
It dresses in red,
Slither and glare,
And it leaves you wondering,
Is it a friend or a foe?
Strings of deception,
The very veil of corruption,
Hands covered in blood,
of the tomato massacre.
Now the snakes are boiled,
And covered in flesh,
Those who don’t deserve it,
Always seem to be first.
The snakes are dressed in red,
It slithers and glares,
They are like strings,
That control what you do.
Spaghettini.