| Often do I write a poem
�Bout how I never have A subject for my poetry But last one was the last Never again will my fine art Be all about my lack Of inspiration, no sirree That subject won�t come back. The rhyme above was really bad, Of this I am aware But it�s 6:12, Thursday morning, So really I don�t care. So now my poetry no more Will be like I was sayin� Cause I�m fed up, they�re old, they�re pants � Damn, I did it again. |
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| << That sucked. Hurry up and take me back to the poetry menu. | ||||||
| (c)2004 This web page was brought to you by The Deepest Recesses Of The Twisted Chasmic Abyss That Is My Imagination |
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