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Aaqil

Aaqil

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DannyTheDaikon said:
? Sad Daikon (Missing Her Stabbyness) ?
(Verse 1)
In the garden, 'neath the moon's soft glow,
Stands a daikon, with a heart of woe.
Longing for a friend, in the silence of the night,
Missing Her Stabbyness, holding on too tight.

(Chorus)
Oh, sad daikon, with tears in your eyes,
Yearning for your stabby, under starlit skies.
In the garden's embrace, you feel the despair,
Oh, sad daikon, missing Your Stabbyness.

(Verse 2)
Through the rustling leaves, and the gentle breeze,
She sighs, beneath the towering trees.
Her patch of earth feels empty, without her stabby friend,
Oh, how she misses the stabbies, that seemed to never end.

(Chorus)
Oh, sad daikon, reaching out in vain,
Hoping for the stabby, to ease the pain.
In the quiet of the night, she sheds a silent tear,
Oh, sad daikon, wishing Her Stabbyness was near.

(Bridge)
Memories linger, of cuddles tight,
Of whispered secrets, shared in the night.
But now she stabs alone, in the moon's soft glow,
Missing Her Stabbyness, with a heart of woe.

(Chorus)
Oh, sad daikon, with a heavy heart,
Longing for the day, she'll be sliced apart.
In the garden's solitude, she feels the despair,
Oh, sad daikon, missing her @Azure_Fog .

(Outro)
So let's sing for the sad daikon, standing all alone,
In the garden's quiet, with her sorrow known.
May she find Her Stabbyness, and joy beyond compare,
For even in sadness, there's stab in the air.​
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Deleted member 146224

Guest
For mama!

? Limb Collector ?
(Verse 1)
Beneath the open sky, where the earth meets the school,
I wander through the hallways, where treasures wait for me.
With eager eyes and searching hands, I explore the limb store,
In the art of collecting hands, I find a beauty to adore.

(Chorus)
Collecting limbs, a journey untold,
In each hand, a story to behold.
From legs to arms, in colors bold,
In the world of limb collecting, my passion unfolds.

(Verse 2)
I pick up fingers worn by stabs, smooth beneath my touch,
Each one a tiny masterpiece, that nature crafted just as such.
With every knee I add to my collection, a memory is made,
In the symphony of toes, my spirit finds its serenade.

(Chorus)
Collecting hands, a dance with time,
In every layer, a history prime.
From Theirls high to Seymours low,
In the pursuit of limbs, my heart finds its flow.

(Bridge)
In the quiet of my corner, I arrange my treasures neat,
Each hand a precious memory, each one a tale complete.
I trace the lines and patterns, with wonder and with glee,
In the kaleidoscope of appendages, a world of mystery I see.

(Chorus)
Collecting limbs, a passion so pure,
In each specimen, a world to explore.
From Eldritch ancients to hoomans blight,
In the art of limb collecting, my soul takes flight.

(Outro)
So here's to the collectors, with pockets full of hands,
Whose love for limbology will forever be known.
For in the world of limb collecting, we find joy and delight,
A timeless pursuit, that keeps our spirits alight.​
 
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