Child-of-Minerva

Oh, crusty waffle behind the stove, Nothing can compare to our love. You're so old and cold and so very full of mold But that does not mean I cannot hold... you. When I kiss you, your mold gets on my lips. When I dance with you, your mold spreads to my hips. Your mold may take over the world, But that doesn't mean you're weird, ye waffle who took over the world. Poetry by JiggleJello~