Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Day 129/366

This one's for Menda, the boy who screamed 'Boobs' for every guess in a sober game of Pictionary. It's a poem on tits in general. It is not about my ones!

Watch them as they bounce,
Squeeze them if you will,
No ketchup will come out,
Just do it for cheap thrills.

God joked around with some,
Made masterpieces of a few,
The perfect pair I'm yet to find -
When I do, what would I do?

The cleavage isn't the real deal
Go down further for what you need.
Big or small or round or perky,
Show them off and do a good deed.