A sad, silly rhyme about memories.
A poem about what it feels like to be a second-generation immigrant living in the UK. Thank you for reading, much love! <3
There are tales that, long ago the sauce tribes lived in peace. Ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, brown sauce and BBQ sauce.
Little tomato separated from the vine. Little tomato says he's doing just fine.
[ and it blends so beautifully with my crimson blood . ]
I'm the king of ketchup, it all belongs to me, so scrape it off your hotdog, and leave it by that tree. I'll take it off your burgers, I'll suck it off your chips, such tomato tinged perfection must o...
A poem about what it feels like to be a second-generation immigrant living in the UK. Thank you for reading, much love! <3
There are tales that, long ago the sauce tribes lived in peace. Ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, brown sauce and BBQ sauce.
Little tomato separated from the vine. Little tomato says he's doing just fine.
[ and it blends so beautifully with my crimson blood . ]
I'm the king of ketchup, it all belongs to me, so scrape it off your hotdog, and leave it by that tree. I'll take it off your burgers, I'll suck it off your chips, such tomato tinged perfection must o...