Nobody loves a fairy when's he's fifty
Nobody likes a fairy, old and grey;
And no one loves a bumboy when he's sixty
Wanking in a toilet, fat and gay.

And when a fairy gets as old as seventy
He can't get rough trade any more
And if he finally makes it through to eighty
His dilated **** will be very sore.

I know I'm ******* at poetry
But I don't care
I just writes what I can
No matter where

I'm no good with words
Nor I am with the mop
But if it makes me feel better
Then why should I stop

It takes my mind off
Once I write what I want
Then once I finish
I can just change the font

This makes me happy
So just let me be
You can think what you like
I'll still be me

Can you laugh at jokes about ***?
Good, you pass the test.
Can you sit and not grow sore?
Good, you're perfect.

Can you be pumped full of *******
And not choke?
Excellent,
You're our kind of superhuman.

Don't look outside.
You're with me now,
And with me
You never have to think.

We're behind the box
Putting no effort in
And leading your lives
With jokes and yokes.

Frost
Dark
Aching belly
Aching back
Eat
Stretch
That's better!

What shall I wear?
Go informal I tell myself
Blend in.

Ok.
I think it's time to leave for work.

Don't forget to lock the door
Don't forget your phone

**** I forgot to put out the *******!

So much waste.
When will it stop.
Too many people letting it drop.
Streets full of litter.
******* galore.
Crisp packets cigarette butts.
All over the floor.
Think before you throw.
The ******* piles will grow and grow.