O Kraken! My Kraken!

You’ve been repackaged,

Disneyfied for the masses

in plush doll form.

 

You finally emerge

from the abyss to dine on

shrimp cocktails platters.

 

Oh, Kraken! My Kraken!

You hired a new PR guy to

soften up your image.

 

Changed your name to

“Krakey” and “Little Krakey.”

Something the kiddies can relate to.

 

Clammy tourists

line up in boats

to take selfies with you.

 

You autograph your memoir

with quills in each tentacle

dipped in your own ink.

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