Her skin is like beef jerky
So coarse and so rough
It's the pride of my touch
Her continual silence
Allows me to speak
She listens to my voice

I remember when I first saw her
Hanging in that closet
Dressed in ragged clothes
She collapsed lifelessly in my arms
So weak and so fragile
She let me hold her

Some would say that she is way too young
And that I am too old
But that doesn't matter
Though I've never heard her say the words
I know that she loves me
As much as I love her

---

A/N: Unless you have a disturbed mind like mine, you probably don't see the humor in this. Anyways, I wrote this after listening to someone read a gothicy poem in my Creative Writing class. I was making fun of gothic poetry, you see, though the poem itself isn't really funny (unless you're weird like me).