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.