I've got crooked teeth?
So what.
You've got chicken feet.
We're all ugly here.
But my eyes are
golden flowers.
Man of the hour,
why so down?
Chop me up,
reverse that frown.
I bet I'd taste good.
Hell, I know I'd taste good.
(Crooked teeth,
and all.)
So what is there to lose?
but that's nothing new.
Let's mingle, make ugly soup.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem