Imp, My Indolent Imp!
Who does cripple my soul to gimp.
I know my thoughts influences you give,
I know in my mind you live.

Scamper sweetly, snidely sneak,
Sear my mind as you seek.
Toppled times, tarnish taught,
Cut your teeth on my thoughts.

Yell for yearned hopes to ensue,
Though grasped, never to pursue.
That of the fragrant form kept hidden,
The flagrant act so forbidden.

Your red eyes treated in human blood,
Your breath smell of human mud.
Teeth yellow as the water that torrents,
All things negative thought warrants.

 Your skin green with moss,
Decent discussion, words loss.
Your voice like nails on a board,
Has been heard by peasant and lord.

Heard both by male and female,
Both have and will fail.
Succumbed to nectar words,
Fallen numerous, heard by herd.

If someone denies you,
That person is more than true.
If someone denies hearing you,
Then know that they be justly untrue.

Imp, My Indolent Imp!
Who does cripple my soul to gimp.
I detest thy with passions unknown,
That has my failures shown.

That your words have tempted me,
Cast from my yellow throne to my knee.
Be known that your screaks of spoil,
Shall be fuel for my words to boil.

I dare not cast thee out,
For what great ideas from you spout.
That in this my year of attempted renown,
I shall place on you the jester’s crown.

Singing gleeful syllables that rain on thee,
Only matched in pleasure, your woeful plea.
You will be in time, my great joke,
On which thousands on laughter will choke.

Imp, My Indolent Imp,
Who does cripple my soul to gimp.
Whisper into my ear ever so raw,
That I may place them in my jaw.

To chew and spit with fury and passion,
land on my page without false chivalrous fashion.
I eagerly await you humanities wimp,
or shall I call you Imp, My invaluable Imp!

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