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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
11h
It's not raining.
If only I'd believed it was butter
I wouldn't have to work today,
but we all know that belief gets in the way of disbelief
and disbelieving is the way that things are going,
I put the blame squarely on Google,
what could possibly be worse
than a multiverse in your own
backyard?
and now
I think it might be butter
but I still have to work
how is that right?
I surrender to the inevitable,
and become irritable
but am I not invincible?
She laughs and says,
you're incredible.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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