Edward Cullen is a footCanterbury Tales PoemEdward Cullen is a foot by ~sealed-sweets
There's Edward Cullen of Forks, Washington.
He's quite a notorious gentleman.
Upon his head, a nest of tousled hair,
Purposely disheveled with gel and care.
Eyebrows drawn tight in incessant scowl,
His mood it seems to be most foul.
He acts like a regular awkward teen,
But he's been that way since 1918,
And his snowy pale skin and eyes like gold
Mean he's supernatural, or so I'm told.
Still, while fangs and speed are some tell-tale hints,
He's not a vampire, I'm not convinced.
Without his bat wings, he cannot take flight.
Even humans he is too timid to bite.
Vampires are busy stalking their kill.
Little Eddie's practicing baseball skills.
Oh if Dracula could come see his kin,
How ashamed he'd be and full of chagrin.
The vamps of the twenty-first century
Have altered their character drastically.
Your cloves of garlic will be of no use
Against the effects Ed's charm will produce,
For once he reveals his sparkling chest,
You'll be blinded or, worse, dis