A Poem for Pumba.
Roses are blue
Violets are red,
for a fact I know you,
would correct that in your head.
So a poem for Pumbies,
signed, promised and delivered.
Of your ticklish tummy,
(among other things)
which my hands do make quiver.
Your fingers work magic
on the keyboard and mouse,
A talent, which I think,
will benefit your future spouse.
No worthier prize I have received
for winning the race.
your virginity, BTW,
I keep in a treasured place.
But don't get too bloated with all the feels
Because I regret to announce,
It's the end of this reel
I have exhausted my genius in record time.
You better be impressed,
with this shitty poem,
that I have endeavoured to make rhyme.
And though I won't print it out on a card,
it's entirely your own to keep,
(as you are mine)
To beat it, I have tried ridiculously hard,
But really, far too fucking hilarious is that valentine.
- Cpt Teemo.