Poetry Soup Brain Fart
Oh my gosh I have another view on those poems I posted an hour ago,
About the break up with my boyfriend and the color of the disgusting snow.
My self-esteem is skyrocketing through its collapsing roof,
With every view of my poems which, are to me, success's proof.
I used a thesaurus for the word "happy" about eleven times today,
And used every word I found inside, except of course, for "gay."
Because I'm actually gay and God knows that to be gay is not really to be happy,
When everyone now thinks that "gay" is a synonym for everything that is crappy.
Also God does not exist, he's just a figment of our imagination:
An incepted thought by those who want us all to fear a hellish damnation.
If you don't agree, I'm sorry, I don't hate you for your belief,
I just think that the word "God" means as much to me as does "queef".
That's so gay of me to say, I apologize for my petulance,
Pardon me for my inability to hold inside my brain's abrupt flatulence.
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