I had a request from my blogger friend Smoph that I turn my bitching and moaning into poetry, and this is my 10min effort procrastinating at work today. Yes… I am well aware it reads like a poem written in 10mins, thankyou!
lost: one boy.
if found, return.
reward will be
my mended heart.
it’s not as if
we’ve had a chance
to make our love
an objet d’art,
and yet he’s gone
again and i,
alone and sad
am asked to start
a poem to
lament the hole
his absence brings.
ok… but why?
do poems make
a bitch and moan
digestible?
perhaps a sigh
when written with
poetic beat,
attaches wings
and makes it fly.
or maybe i’ve
just managed to
increase the wank
- this poem stank.
I aint a poet.
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