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My woes
I'm a tad dried up
I haven't written a poem in a while,
Waiter, pour some coffee in my cup,
So where was I, Trying to convince you about you're beautiful smile,
No, I was talking about my woes,
As you can see, I'm a terrible poet,
I couldn't rhyme to save my life,
But, Hey, it pays the bills, even helps me deal with my foes,
You try to tell me I'm a good poet, sadly I don't show-it
Someday, maybe, I'll read my poems to my wife.
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