The Rhymes You Hate

Sometimes, methinks, that poems so sweet
are far too often like stinky feet.
The hairs in my nose they really curl
and often make me want to hurl.
If I read too much I beg and wheedle
"Please someone give me my insulin needle!"
And so's the case of dead Miss Dickinson
her poem's must be interred and quickinson!

Remember, the delete key is always nearby!



"What if it really were true that we choose our parents before we are born? What difference would that make in your Life?"

The Reincartionist