Post your bad poetry here, intentional or not.
There once was a dark lord named Stan
He lived in a thorn castle that he ran
The day he rescued me from the horrible light
My mom was making spaghetti, asking if it was alright
“No!”, I shrieked, “No, spaghetti makes my black coal soul ache!”
“I can’t do these anymore, it’s all very too much for me to take!”
With that cry worthy of a Fury, my black wings emerged in a hurry
Screamed and screamed, then ate my family, cooked up a nice curry
A knock on the door, a concerned neighbour, then I ate Mr. O’Murray
A rain of fire came across the sky, the coming of stan to be nigh
“They served pasta again” I said, “they know that shit makes me cry!”
That was the start of our wonderful relationship, which mainly involved pillaging the countryside with blades formed from our mutual hatred of the world and people.