I really don’t,
Not an ounce,
Not anymore,
Not evermore,
I don’t care.
I don’t care that I’m short,
I don’t care that I’m stout,
I don’t care that I’m poor,
I don’t care much about.
What’s to care for?
Who’s to care for?
We’re carless little bees,
Buzzing away at the lost honey,
When someone is spraying our hive.
Ask me if I give a ****
Ask me if it is true,
You’ll come to learn and realize,
That even this poem doesn’t rhyme,
And I don’t care.
Jan 2, 2024
Jan 2, 2024 at 11:51 PM UTC
I really don’t,
Not an ounce,
Not anymore,
Not evermore,
I don’t care.
I don’t care that I’m short,
I don’t care that I’m stout,
I don’t care that I’m poor,
I don’t care much about.
What’s to care for?
Who’s to care for?
We’re carless little bees,
Buzzing away at the lost honey,
When someone is spraying our hive.
Ask me if I give a ****
Ask me if it is true,
You’ll come to learn and realize,
That even this poem doesn’t rhyme,
And I don’t care.
Do I care? Negative.
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