Or nose upon your face,
Long, bulbous protuberances instead,
Stuck all over the place,
A hunched back scaled with overlapping nails,
Exposed organs ‘round front,
A voice that projects directly to space,
Shuffling on puss bags soft and corpulent,
In a world populated by the same,
Ruling over the land,
All conveniences geared toward your form,
No help for human hands,
Would we be friends?
Bushy brows and thin frame,
A soul that, if bared, you would understand,
If you would only just ask me my name.
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