I
Want
To write
A poem
About things I know
Numbers and mathematics but
People don't like maths
It's boring
It's just
Hard
Work.

I thought I could get away with a fib
But it only brought weakness
Not just to my mind but to my limbs
If only he could of witnessed

In that moment I was scared
So I figured why not write a script
Why'd he have to care
Protecting myself caused me to feel like a convict

I now have a conflict and am left sleepless
I just didn't want to be compared
Now left feeling helpless in my own tangled mess
This so called fib has caused me to become mentally impaired

Once upon a harvest moon,
a timid gnome encountered a boisterous baboon.
“Whacha up to tonight?!” the baboon slurred,
yelling loud enough that the whole town heard.

‘You got this man,’ the shy gnome thought,
because for a baboon, she was kind of hot.
“Not much, ya know,” stated the gnome,
“I’ve just been hanging out at home.”

“Well that ain’t fun!” the baboon cried,
“You’ve gotta have fun, life’s supposed to be a crazy ride!”
Embarrassed, the gnome replied with a fib,
“Tonight was a fluke! I got out, I’m no Squib!”

Laughing she stated, “I think you’re a liar.”
“Oh really?” He retorted, “My pants aren’t on fire.”
She laughed, “HA HA HA! Good one honey,”
the baboon didn’t realize his joke was not funny.

Drunk as a skunk, she had no clue,
the meadow she was in was not Club Blue.
The gnome, however, thought things were going well,
trapped in the clutches of her womanly spell.

Being a bit nerdy he didn’t get out much,
the poor gnome had never even felt a woman’s touch.
Feeling bolder he decided to take a chance,
until he realized that the baboon had peed her pants.