Wimp, a constant imp.,

Imps never grow up into wishful cherubs,
for they’re ever loved for being so impsome.,
but that is just all that they can ever be.,


O wimp, my imp, now don’t you beam,
You’re wrecking the midnight misery aye,
Go nibble and gnaw my buckskin strap,
And make caverns exult your heavenly cries.,

O wimp, my boy, let’s crunch your limbs,
And shred all skin off your sinewy trunk,
We’ll toss you around and whip you hard,
And such playful tricks shall keep you young.,

O imp, your impiness demands,
Such loathsome grime that the sane can’t handle,
And towards the end when you come out tops,
You’re never aloof from a searing scandal.,

O wimp, so jade, but tread not in rush,
In the swarm of men, all good monkey-eyed,
Or I’ll to bury your thorns and wind your tail,
To hoard away from imps with scouted sides.,

O wimp, deared imp, that hallowed howl,
Shall it flood all naughtiness in men,
Until that day, we’ll redden all hands,
To saunter all lands, as prided imps again.,



Stanza 3 by Mayank.,
Theme, quite shamelessly, and without permission, lifted from a post on Kokil's blog ;P