Blaaaaaaa Blaaaaaaaa Blaaaaa

The last time I saw him,
He was poorly drawn,
Underfed, and limbs were starting to turn.
Hooves were growing where his hands had been,
And buds of horn topped his temples shorn.

The pupils of his eyes were going square,
And on his body, coarse and matted hair grew,
And as I said goodbye and turned to go,
The hardheaded thing bleated
And said hello.

-jenn long