This space is meant to have a pome,
I haven’t witten whum,
Bare the page, still the pen, I sit here on my bum It’s really rather dumb No thoughts will ever come Things are looking glum My brain’s forever numb I twiddle my thumbs
That makes for a sad column.
I was never a fan of strike-through bonbons.
It works like a broken Internet connection.
And tastes like a triple-soiled bubblegum.
And sounds like a fractured bass drum…
I’m smiling.
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Thank you!
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I think this would be my thought process if I ever tried to write a poem 🙂
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I think you’d make a good poet!
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That makes for a sad column.
I was never a fan of strike-through bonbons.
It works like a broken Internet connection.
And tastes like a triple-soiled bubblegum.
And sounds like a fractured bass drum…
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You remind me of Milton.
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Milton, who would not regain his blog.
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