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Sep 2016
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I’m sick of writing poetry
I’m sick of it I am
Especially all these rhyming words
that flow out from this pen

Those tired worn out phrases
I write about her smile
Each lovey-dovey stanza
in fancy cursive style

The lines about the evening,
a shimmering moon beam
And how when I am slumbering
she always is my dream

Affectionate creations
oh please, for goodness sake
I can not write another one
it’s more than I can take

This poetry about my love
for her I always feel
Upsets my stomach every night
I mean, come on, get real

All of it is stupid
though some may call it dumb
For when I’m finished writing one
my fingers all go numb

Oh crap, Stephan is coming
he’s walking through the door
The biggest smile on his face
I’ve ever seen before

He’s been on the phone with her
he thinks he’s pretty slick
Now he’ll write something beautiful
and it will make me sick

And who am I, you’re asking
well you just should have known
I’m the laptop on his desk
that he left all alone

I used to be his favorite,
but that was way before
He found this mesmerizing girl
the one he does adore

Jealous, oh you think so
well maybe you are right
Or just an angry laptop
that won’t go without a fight

Just wait until I post this
it will be pretty sweet
Oh no, don’t hit that button
**** he just pushed dele…
**** computers
Stephan
Written by
Stephan  Camp Johnson Crossing NW
(Camp Johnson Crossing NW)   
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