An ode to aube


Oh, my dear aubergine,
It must be something in your genes,
That makes your flesh,
Your pulpy mass,
That’s often filled with so much sass,
Be sometimes such a soggy mess,
That no spice or salt can try address.
Your sexy skin always promises much,
Yet often within your insides are such,
That your only use however lonely,
Is to denote a large penis in emoji.

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