Post Apocalypse.
Looters are near. Too close to
my Spam. Must protect.
Survival a must.
Spam is a food I can trust.
Precooked goodness now.
Protein packed are you.
Save my strength for days ahead.
Oh fill my belly.
Living in my hell.
Touch of paradise per can.
My Spam, my rich joy.
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The most harrowing tale I've perhaps ever heard.
ReplyDeleteYes, its gripping.
ReplyDeleteHi it's Alyssa, Mike's kinda sorta kid. I have to say i have never tried spam before, but I like these poems.
ReplyDelete