Hi, panda. You left a wonderfully detailed review on my other poem, and I was hoping that you could give this poem a review, seeing as it hasn't got many.
'Tis the season to shovel enormous amounts of watermelon into your mouth while hunched over the cutting board like a dehydrated vampire that hasn't fed on blood in four hundred years and the only viable substitute is this questionable Christmas-colored fruit. — Ari11