Omg Are You Kidding
The depths of my soul are too shallow.
The fruits of my labor grew fallow.
A sing songy rhyme in three quarter time.
Is all that this poem has to show.
But what can a free thinking fellow.
Do when his mind has turned to jello.
As he sits and requires to express.
What he knows, he know's won't impress.
So he jump's in with nothing to lose.
With his iambic poetic shoes.
If you pay close attention.
You'll notice him mention.
But quite secretly, only with clues.
The afternoon's weaving and waving.
As he still sit's here just misbehaving.
Doing nothing worth while, now somewhat of a style.
He finds that it's all that he's craving.
An emptiness filled to the brim.
Is all that is left inside him.
A repose to the past that surely can't last.
OMG, are you kidding, how dim.
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