A smart *ss hermit,
Sitting on a folly throne.
And he always likes to spit,
Bunch of words in drone.
A culturally-modified mime,
In a shirt that dull boring pinky.
Talking about the punctuation and rhyme,
Insisted on how a poem should be.
Oh dear gray-haired kooks..
The words you say wrapped in hypocrisy.
I might not counted smart in your books,
But at least my words cry it honestly.
Copyright © Shirley Candy | Year Posted 2013
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