The Life Of An Unfortunate Piñata Poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson

His blood was candy, and his soul was sweet,
they ripped open his belly, and grab for a treat.
His eyes filled with goodies, and treasures untold,
came his life to an end as this piñata did fold.
It rained down from his body, the stuff made for fun,
poor old piñata had no place to run.
Hit after hit, laughter abound,
the poor old piñata's guts fell to the ground.
No one weeps for the broken paper mache,
who will never again live to see another day.
unfortunate