Nothing In Particular
I'm writing this poem about,
Nothing in particular.
It might be so, I don't quite know
If this matter can be quite the tickler.
As you read,
What I write,
Are you sitting are you standing,
Or are you leaning to the right?
Today I don't feel,
Any kind of sadness.
EEK! I'm talking to myself,
That's the first sign of madness.
I now that I'm sarcastic,
But I'm not very witty.
If you think you're so smart,
Sing a funny ditty!
HA!
I bet you diddn't sing at all.
I don't care,
If you're big or small.
Now whose smarter,
May I ask,
As I give you,
Another task!
Write a poem,
Even better,
And if you do,
Send me a letter!
I told you at the very start,
This poem may not be a tickler,
But one thing is quite for sure,
That it's about nothing in particular.
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