What more could be said for the life of trash...
A mixture of oddities and pieces quite rash...
Two eyes to the left... staring at a third.
Who knew my arms belonged to a herd...
Of charging chimpanzees chirping off chaff...
Wondering, whimpering, wobbling daft.
They told me it would be okay...
But look at me eating hay!
It sure doesn't help -- with a head of a horse --
Solidity, promiscuity, dribbledy mucous.
Profusing from every half-inch pore.
Green with red; orange and blue.
What else should my tentacles do?
A swathing, swaying, sad sad sight...
Poor poor self... without any thumbs on my hands --
I can not write!
And so I... go I... mow and shrew...
Until I find out what Illithids do.