The Book I Read Last Night
Crazy is the holy name of the book
I had read last night, paper backed
And very slimmed priced about dollars fifty three
Published and written by none other than this cherubic me
The theme is very simple telling about my rise
From very humble position and the attention I got
From the pompous girls and lustrous women of our locality
The critiques analysed it critically and said this is very false
But I am telling them I really saw a cute baby
Standing quite right at the end of the queue before my fall
And I am learnt from the lines of the last page
That for me she is still waiting with anxious breath
I feel pity for inexperienced her and still I regret
I should have continued writing, say, fifty more pages
To find her soul a mate but I am very ashamed to say
I am made a fool myself and a sense of self cheating creeps in
The book is not crazy nor am I, nor are there real critiques
Under dark I took a book unknown written by somebody else.
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