More Goth Poetry

It was nice of someone to fix it for her.

More Goth Poetry

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    5 Responses to More Goth Poetry

    1. Truly, thou hath a most wickedly sharp tongue and has put it to use with a keen edge, slicing chunks of blubber and malaise from thine victim in equal portions. I raise mine blade in salute to you sir. Milk hath poured forth in copious torrents from mine nasel protrubrance. I hath soiled mine codpiece most thoughroughly with shite. I hath fallen upon the earth writhing to and fro, with hearty guffaws issuing from mine lips.

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