An Ode to Mince Pies

I’m writing this poem to mince pies,
Who always increase my dick size.
I love you more than life itself,
And I long to see you, on my cupboard shelf.

I adore your mincey meat,
You make me feel like a bitch in heat.
And when you remove your pastry,
I feel myself growing racy.

I love to take a bite and peer inside,
I’ll lube you up and in I’ll slide.
I’ll keep on going till I’m ready to blow,
Then I'll release my creamy flow!

And so, when we climb into my bed,
And you offer me mincemeat-y head,
I’ll remember how beautiful you were,
When I bought you from the restaurateur.

And after, when you light a cigarette,
And I clean off my fleshy bayonet,
I’ll put on the microwave for minutes ten,
And prepare to eat you all over again!

I’ll place you in a bowl, top you with sugar and cream,
And we’ll both indulge in our wildest dream!
We’ll finally be together; two parts of a whole,
And I’ll always have you, Mince Pie, in my soul.

That was beautiful.

Did you really come up with that yourself?

Yes.

Yes I did.