Best Wrangled Poems

Penning wrangled mime
and wared out of my skits,
I’m poked in serspiration,
My mind’s in fisted twits.

It’s not the way I spike to leak;
I’ve turned to try it down.
Still I'm rilled with florious grime,
so nothing dings me brown.

We poets are a lazy crot,
voiling with turds and worse.
Roping...

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