A Poem To My Self

For all the times I’ve felt alone, And in the stench of gross cologne, For the fear of my life story, I still don’t like the name of Cory. I write this poem to remind my self To not hit my head upon thy shelf, It hurts a lot for that I know For when it happens, stick your head in snow, It hurt to say I saw it coming, From the very start of running. This poem rhymes, I don’t know why, All I did was think and try. It’s hard to think for oh so long, You start to think about the tongs. This makes no sense what so ever To think of words that I could never. The grammar stinks and I think it’s funny, For some strange reason I think of honey And I’m no Pooh Bear, no I’m not, But I think of honey like I ought, Most people look and think I’m crazy, Although my mind is fogged and hazy. I’m losing my mind yes I think, But it seems the hose is kinked. I think and try my very hardest, To come with words that is from farthest. Fluke eh nuke in jime in himer, It makes no sense like an old timer. My friends’ foot was caught between A 10 pound magnet and a metal thing. You hear and see and speak no evil, So stay away form evil weevil! I shall now end this poem So now I think I'm mot so lonesome. Now I think this is The End some. . . I'll make another just like this one. Now I know this will end and I'll re-write it on a grain of sand. Now I bid my good farewell As I ring the great big Bell!