Blorple

Blorple

Blorple in the moonlight, blorple in my tea,

Blorple on the ceiling where it shouldn’t even be.

Blorple in my backpack, blorple on my shoe,

I said “don’t touch the blorple” and they still said “who?”

Blorple in my notebook, writing all my lines,

Blorple took my deadlines and called them “suggested times.”

Blorple’s got no morals, but a killer sense of style,

It struts into disaster and stays there for a while.

Blorple in the kitchen, cooking chaos stew,

Blorple in my feelings—wait, that’s nothing new.

Blorple on the windows, blorple on the floor,

I blinked for just a second… now there’s five and maybe more.

So don’t ask what blorple is.

Don’t try to make it fit.

Just vibe with the blorple,

Or you’ll blorp out of it.