For The Life Of Me
Not For Contest
Note-Again Connie reads the contest rules after she writes the poem,
missing the fact that the poem should have ten lines or less. I told you
I'm walking on eggshells.
Why do all the chickens lay their eggs on my path
They are filthy and smelly and can use a bath
There's poop and stench pulling on my rope
Where are all the hungry foxes to give me hope
Please take them away from me on a jet plane
I can't take this anymore, I'm going insane
Fly them off to the sun so they'll burn to a toast
Their presence has turned me pale like a ghost
Why couldn't I have been the one to fly the coop
Instead of slumping with the white-sheeted group
Every day I see that family and six baby chicks
That pulls my nerves while I watch them get their kicks
These chickens should trip to the sun for all I care
I'll even pack a lunch for them to see them flare
Every day I hear buck-buck-buck while I walk on eggshells
My life needs to be unfeathered because I'm living in hells
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