The Bearded Food-Fighter Talking Snack

I grow hair on my face.
And I think that’s a bit weird
That my chin can displace
Skin and grow out a beard.

These opened up pores
bring a strange facility,
My beard slowly stores
Up food with ability

To conjure it later
When the time is right
These amo’d invaders
Prepare to food fight.

If you bring it with good things
You’ve bought just to throw
I’ll wing it with ling’rings
Of “Classics” I know.

These leftovers left on
Will stay there for lunch
Lest you look for the cleft on
My chin, throw some punch.

If you prompt a defense,
We’ll counter attack
My fork circumvents
My mouth with this snack

Plucked out of my hair
To put you to shame
I’m ready, beware,
If you don’t know my name,

I am that bearded guy
Who has hair coming out of his face.
I make small children cry,
Wearing food that I misplace

In this curly red haired machine
That lets torturers each take their turn
Trying to bring me down clean
With their blades and razor burn.

No, you lost this fight yesterday
Or maybe it was the day before.
So go ahead and play
with your food while I ignore

The unsightly bits of food in my beard.
The bits of food that make me look feared
To you and your friends that think it’s weird
That halfway through lunch, my plate has been cleared.

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