pavlovs dogfood
sleepy
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2004
- Messages
- 1,186
- Reaction score
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- Points
- 31
No joke, friends. Everyone is a poet in their own right these days, the awfulness of each poem only superceded by the awkwardness of the next. Every single girl my age I know thinks they're the next Emily Dickinson, or so it seems. Except they lack one thing that, certainly, is woeful to lack: any semblance of talent.
I'm not being harsh. Heck, even I get into the spirit. I present to you all, exclusive before to those lucky few awesome enough to be my friend on Myspace, my Very First Bad Poem:
the pain falls like rain
on my heart
torn apart
i have to fart
go to K Mart
why
i wanna fly
so high
like a ki...
TE!
oh yes.
oh my heck.
what the feck.
i like beck.
but only a little
i play my fiddle
not a violin
it wouldn't encompass my sadness
ness, ness...
i want to die
WHY?!
wither
away.
i bray
like a mule
i'm a fool
4 u
end.
Like it? Love it? Really love it? Let me know what you think.
I'm not being harsh. Heck, even I get into the spirit. I present to you all, exclusive before to those lucky few awesome enough to be my friend on Myspace, my Very First Bad Poem:
the pain falls like rain
on my heart
torn apart
i have to fart
go to K Mart
why
i wanna fly
so high
like a ki...
TE!
oh yes.
oh my heck.
what the feck.
i like beck.
but only a little
i play my fiddle
not a violin
it wouldn't encompass my sadness
ness, ness...
i want to die
WHY?!
wither
away.
i bray
like a mule
i'm a fool
4 u
end.
Like it? Love it? Really love it? Let me know what you think.