Riddonkulous

He wears no skin, yet he always grins, With a purple hood and a villainous spin. He plots and schemes from his shadowy throne, Chasing a castle that’s not his own. He roasts his minions and foes with delight, His insults slap harder than his army’s might. I could write a book about what you don’t know, Is the kind of wisdom he loves to throw. His voice is a laugh, his plans are grand, Though they always seem to slip out of hand. Until we meet again, don’t be a bumbling fool, He’ll remind you himself, that’s his golden rule.