I am a fire-breathing dragon
when I eat hot chips.
My blood-soaked claws
are like Pollock only had one color to paint with.
Let the Flamin’ Hot flavored tortillas
run and Paul Revere of the coming genocide.
I’m coming for you all.
Run and hide, while you think you still have a chance.
-
Author:
GON (
Offline) - Published: July 19th, 2020 03:36
- Category: Humor
- Views: 27
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.