September is the cruelest month.

This poem will be rather blunt:
I want to see your lovely cunt.
My fist inside your hole of joy,
I want to be your Christmas toy.

Please, don't think that I'm a tranny,
Believe me that I want your fanny.
To penetrate you with my sword
And leave you gasping: "oh, my word".

Roses are red but can be pink,
I'd even do you in the stink.
Me and you, it's meant to be
With you on top and riding me.