#seuss
There once was from Whoville a who
Who pretended the Grinch was her boo:
She said she would please him
But only would tease him
Till his grassy green Grinch-balls turned blue.
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 6:03 PM UTC
Poems don’t have to rhyme, free verse it isn’t a crime
I can write what I please—don’t call the police.
Must I play the game, both rhyme and spill intimate things?
Can I develop leitmotifs without rhyming riffs?
I could claim I’m writing prose - yeah, be one of those.
No one can rhyme all the time.
I can refuse—I’m no Dr F-ing Seuss,
**** it! ← See? THAT didn’t rhyme.
(sirens in the distance)
.
.
Fun songs for this:
Ain't It Fun by Paramore
It's All Your Fault (with Katie Shore) by Asleep At The Wheel
Jan 12, 2025
Jan 12, 2025 at 12:22 PM UTC
one shift
two shift
red shift
blue shift
this wave has a certain tone
this wave has an antinode
some waves add to make another
some waves shorten in the summer
here's a wave that's really fast
this wave has really got to blast
but how to find velocity
find the length and take that lambda
multiplied by frequency
though when the amplitude is maxxed
a level you can't hear perhaps
the noise it makes is just the worst
so please
why dont you turn that down
that awful noise, it really hertz
May 3, 2024
May 3, 2024 at 4:19 PM UTC
2 little whos
in whoville dream
while dr. seuss
screams SAM I AM!
(a redblue fish
carols a zart
musicalic
ious schlittenfahrt)
the grinch steals X-
mas.i&you
the grinch & max
(who's barking) BOO!
Dec 20, 2023
Dec 20, 2023 at 2:36 PM UTC
her bouncy run and tickled fun,
her gremlish punch and happy lunch,
her evil smirk makes me berserk,
her boo gosh falls ‘cause it’s a ****
I don’t know what this rhyme scheme is,
but Emme is my favorite dish,
I’ll eat her every meal and day,
and don’t think in a weird way,
she’s seriously so beautiful,
so pull your pinky,
Hootiful!
LALALALALALALALALALALALALALA
Aug 31, 2023
Aug 31, 2023 at 11:23 AM UTC
Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mount Crumpit,
He rode to the tiptop to dump it!
"Pooh-pooh to the Whos!" he was grinch-ish-ly humming.
"They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming!
"They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
"All the Whos down in Who-ville will all cry BOO-HOO!"...
At the top of the mountain he untied his dog
From the sleigh. And the valley was filling with fog
As thick as the Who Hash he'd grinched just before.
He chuckled with glee at what was in store.
Now the Grinch grabbed the sacks from the top of the sleigh,
And with a mighty "HEAVE ** he shoved them away.
The bags filled with toys well they weaved and they shook
With the weight of the things he so sneakily took.
Until finally momentum made things far less slow.
They fell 3000 feet to the jagged rocks below.
A sickening crunch and several sharp cries
At first startled the Grinch but caused him to realize
When he stole from the Whos down in Whoville his pride
Had gotten the best of him; he'd thrown some children inside.
He giggled maliciously, grabbed his dog Max
And got back in the sleigh, for he couldn't relax.
He had to go back, for his job wasn't done.
All the Whos down in Whoville, every last one
Every man, every woman, every daughter and son
Would be dead in their beds by the dawn of the sun.
The trip down Mount Crumpit was faster than up
As he growled to himself, "where's that ***** with the cup?"
He jumped off the sleigh, machete in hand
And marched straight into Whoville, whose gates could not stand
For the rage made him strong. How he hated the Whos
With their **** cheesy smiles, and their dumb pointy shoes,
Turned up noses and pigtails and hideous songs,
THE SONGS, THE SONGS, HOW HE HATED THE SONGS.
And now he'd make sure that the Whos sang no more...
At Cindy Lou Who's house he kicked down the door
And strode into the bedroom of Cindy Lou Who.
She woke with a start, murmured "Santa? That you?"
The Grinch, with a sneer, grabbed Lou Who by the hair,
****** her out of bed seven feet in the air,
And with two sharp knives pinned her arms to the wall.
Her screams roused her parents just down the hall.
They ran to their child to save her from harm.
The mistake that they made cost them each their right arm.
Writhing on the floor in their own ****** mess,
They looked at the Grinch in a state of distress.
"Why would you do this?" they managed to hurl,
"Please, you can **** us, just not our little girl!"
He listened to their pleas with a wry little smile,
He patiently heard them, then after a while,
He cut out their tongues with another sharp knife,
First of the husband, and then of the wife.
Then he turned to young Cindy with glee,
And hissed in her ear, "you'll do something for me..."
Cindy shook her head violently, but to no avail,
For the Grinch had the tongues on a rusty old nail.
He shoved them down her gullet. She started to choke,
Then she finally died, for the rusty nail broke.
He stepped over the body of mother Lou Who,
And the Grinch slithered over to house #2.
With this house he made quick work of the Whos.
He set them on fire to cure them of the "blues."
The blaze that resulted would spread down the street,
Drawing Whos from their houses like flies to dead meat.
A grenade waited for them in center of town.
A click, then a boom mowed, like, half of them down.
The other half attempted a weak attack.
With a Type-67 the Grinch kept them back.
The little Who children could do nothing but stare
In open-mouthed horror as the Grinch, without care,
Shot them down one by one till the snow was stained red,
And he would not stop firing till they were all dead.
And as the sun rose oe'r the grisly scene,
The Grinch drenched in blood of adult, child, and teen,
With a pentagram smack in the center of town,
And the tree in the middle would slowly burn down.
With the scalps of the Whos down in Whoville in hand,
The Grinch called his dog Max, who could barely stand
Because he was violently shaking in shock.
He could not even whimper, let alone walk.
Not a Who was left standing, not a song to be heard,
Save for that of a single Who bird
Which was quickly snuffed out by a single pistol round.
And after that there was not a sound.
The Grinch, his work finished, got back in the sleigh,
Cracked the whip over Max, and slithered away.
The last thing the poor town of Whoville would hear:
"If there's anyone left, well, I'll come back next year!"
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 8:49 AM UTC
Didd it,
with a tip of my five hundreth hat:
Dance in the afterwords, wondering if we
were we
the ones who swallowed hole and fell
on
hard times, past
emptied heart and mind of worthship
appraised unworthy of mention
compared to the stars on TV.
Hey, see.
Written on Grandma's wall.
A sign for those who read,
then the written declaration appeared
on a tapestry from QVC
Home, home at last,
Each heart is singing
Home, home at last.
And above the festive table as on a scroll
dis plays plentiy fructifity of ludis-hermes
Live Love Laugh
And tell the tale of the times
that came and went as all times do
this too, shall pass.
Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 9:36 PM UTC
Son-of-Sam-I-am
with a ghost of a chance perchance
to stalk the block
where unsuspectings walk
Die-cast metal guy-am-I
all alone I sense the stone
reaching in to break the bone
Another one done for fun
Aren't I the fortunate son?
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 11:15 AM UTC
I am writing.
I am writing some words.
I am writing some words that are meant to be heard.
They’re meant to be heard;
to be heard by a few.
A few will hear, including you.
What did you think, now that you’ve heard?
What do you think when you heard all the words?
..when you heard the words written to the few.
The few that did hear (that included you).
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 8:03 PM UTC
The Board
by Michael R. Burch
Accessible rhyme is never good.
The penalty is understood:
soft titters from dark board rooms where
the businessmen paste on their hair
and, Colonel Klinks, defend the Muse
with reprimands of Dr. Seuss.
The best book of the age sold two,
or three, or four (but not to you),
strange copies of the ones before,
misreadings that delight the board.
They sit and clap; their revenues
fall trillions short of Mother Goose.
Keywords/Tags: poetry, accessible, rhyme, traditional, muse, Seuss, Mother Goose, misreadings, discrimination, prejudice, revenues, sales, copies
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 1:40 AM UTC
Dr. Seuss used to live in my city,
Where the trees are triumphant truphaloos.
Acid rain falls to make you more witty,
and the world shakes with the weight of your dues.
"Still, laugh along with everyone," you'll say,
And the ground will tremble beneath thy hooves
So with that turn to see the palm trees sway,
and chuckle when the sky above you moves.
Yes, Seuss' friends don't wander in the streets
they're far too busy strolling in the woods.
The smells of all Balboa take their seats,
So now, make the exchange, and drop the goods.
I see the world now through a dead man's eyes,
so now upon the world a new sun dies.
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 1:45 PM UTC
You are you
You are the unusual; like a noontide dew
You're birth of this fertile soil
Who else should you be but you?
Be yourself,
let everyone in trying to be you, toil
Don't try to become anyone but you
Be the main character, let everyone be a foil
You're greater than you think
Why have you chosen to join the queue?
Don't be to yourself a turmoil
Of your kind, if there're any, they're but few
You're you
That is truer than true
You are an exceptional aesthetic
There's no one alive who is youer than you
You are an extraordinary piece of the greatest artist
You're one of a kind
There's no one like you.
—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
[DR. SEUSS]
“Today you are You,
That is truer than true.
There is no one alive who is Youer
than You.”
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 3:07 AM UTC
The lonely rocketship floating through space, roaming the galaxy, day by day finding a new place. the moon, the sun the planets, the stars, what about Venus, Mercury or Mars. Men with their chests out shouting and pleading, telling the masses that earth wasn’t enough. They huffed and puffed until we bought their bluff. So we sent them to the moon to see the stars, big bundles of gas scattered across the sky, truly a wonder, a honor to see and in the distance there it stands, our big ol’ ball of blue and green, where smoke is so thick you can barely see and it fills up your lungs so it’s hard to breathe, big bundles of gas are killing us.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 11:47 PM UTC
Condolences,
Today is the day,
Dangerous circumstances,
Are soon on their way.
From the brains in your head,
To the feet in your shoes,
You are soon to be beat,
And you're soon to be bruised.
You'll have blood on your head, crusted into your hair,
No wounds will ever heal, not the cuts or the tears,
With your head leaking brains and red stained white cleats,
The athletes will beat you while you're out on the street.
They'll touch all of your ups,
And they'll touch all of your downs,
From the back to the front,
From the tip to the crown.
They'll open you there,
Wide open and bare.
Outside things will happen,
They will continue to do,
Things that mess with your head,
Because you are a Jew.
And when things will happen,
Don't worry, don't stew,
Just go along with,
Whatever happens to you.
OH!
THE NAZI'S YOU'LL MEET!
You'll be up on your way,
To see some pretty sights,
Then a **** will show up,
And knock out your lights.
You'll lag behind, because you don't have the speed,
The whole gang will jump you, they'll do it, indeed,
Wherever you go, you'll fight the best of the best,
They'll use their fist to rip your heart out your chest.
Except when they don't,
Because sometimes they won't.
They will be high or drunk or maybe just blue,
They'll be so sad and depressed, they'll do nothing to you.
They will either hang themselves,
or pray in the church,
They will put down their weapons,
and stop the search.
Upon leaving the church,
You'll surely feel a thump,
And chances are then,
That you've just been ******
A special kind of ****
That will leave you stunned,
While it's up in the ****
You'll scream, "This isn't fun!",
You'll feel the reaming of Muhammad and Mark,
One is a light skin, and the other, rather dark,
They'll tear through your **** like it isn't a sin,
Then they'll turn you around and take you for a spin,
And a slurp, and a choke, until the stuff drips down your chin.
When they finish, will you have the strength to fight,
Or will you barely be able to tell left from right,
You'll be so dizzy that you think you might be blind,
It must have been too much ramming from behind,
After they're done, they'll keep you in prison confined.
You will get so confused,
While they're booming the bass,
Riding you faster, at such a neck-breaking pace,
Riding the throat then spilling all over the face,
Then they leave you in shock, in this dark humid place,
Dark... humid... place...
...just waiting and waiting,
As the seasons come and go,
And cars will come and go,
And people come and go,
Some people ask, "Are you okay?",
and you say, "No.",
You continue to just wait.
Wishing that you were just white,
Instead of a Jew that gives off a fright,
To every non-Jew and hater despite,
Religion or if they're dead or awake,
So you still lay there in anguish and ache,
You'll soon get the nerve to pull up your pants,
And then you'll walk south until you reach France,
Every step is a throbbing pain in your ***
NO!
YOU WILL NOT GIVE UP!
Somehow you'll escape,
The praying then spraying,
Removing all hope,
Whatever was remaining.
As you leave Germany,
you will say goodbye,
But you were too loud,
And you were stopped by a guy.
The man screams out, "HAULT!", as you begin to run,
And now you realize that the great chase has begun,
As you are running away, you trip and you fall,
Still wanting to flee, away you sluggishly crawl,
You feel the mans hands grab so you beg and you plea,
You loosen the grip, stand, then pinned against a tree.
Rammed into the wood,
Knocked out, this is no good.
I'm afraid you'll be caught,
And chopped up in a stew,
This is bound to happen,
No matter what you do.
Very Dead!
Whether you like it or not,
Dead will be something,
You'll be in the ***
And when you are dead, there's a very good chance,
That a necrophiliac will find romance,
He'll steal your body with his swiftness and brawn,
You'll make him say, "I do want life to go on!".
On he will go,
With his moaning and growls,
On he will go,
Stretching right towards your bowels,
On he will go,
Like a wolf he will howl,
He will awkwardly peck,
With his mouth like a beak,
Upon the great hole,
In which he took a leak.
On and on he'll strike,
Until all the white tar,
Comes out of his *******
Dirtying his new car.
He doesn't own a horse,
But a car you can blow,
Because there are thirty *****
Hanging off the window,
And the wheels are some *****
That are hardened and cracked,
This is a normal car,
This car isn't abstract,
This car doesn't run on gas so it's quite the heft,
When it's pushed up hills with hands of the deft.
So... will you bleed?
Will you beg and plead?
(This Is Actually Zero Percent Guaranteed)
JEW! YOU ARE IN CHARGE!
This is your life, your way,
You're able to seize the day,
You can go to all places,
You can choose to leave or stay,
So please do what you wish,
And your life will be great.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 8:35 PM UTC
Snit and Snat
Part 1
Different from me!
From a very young age, I was told what to think
What to do how to do it how to dress how to drink
When old enough to know all about this and about that
I was told by my father to watch out for the SNATs!
He told me such stories he stoked all my fears.
I just could not sleep right not for nearly a year
After all, he had told me that we were all SNITs,
We live a good life here down in the pits
Our people don’t mix with the SNATS up above
We stay down in our pit that fits us like a glove
The SNATS live above and control all the land
Some live by themselves in holes in the sand.
Some live in villages infested by rats
They eat crazy food and they even have cats
Don’t venture they said don’t stray way up there
They will soon gulp you down without even a care.
The noises they make shake our homes way down here
It makes our young children cower in fear.
Being curious I said, “I just have to know.
How do they live and where do they go?
I must find this out I must venture up there
And find the true story, what why and where.” I climbed out of the pit and on to the sand
Strange sounds I soon heard from way cross the land
It was the sound of a SNAT making way through the gloom
“SNAT! SNAT! SNAT!” he growled as he ran toward my doom.
I climbed to a place, up atop a great tree
The SNAT followed suit and sat next to me.
His skin was all furry his eyes were bright blue
He looked down at my feet and he took off my shoe
He let out a SNAT laugh and ran down the tree
I soon followed quickly and what do I see.
The SNAT was now dancing and singing with glee,
As loud as he could, SNAT! SNAT! SNAT! 1, 2, 3,
I climbed up that tree and watched for a while
The SNAT just kept dancing and showed a great smile
He was wearing my shoe as he danced through that night
He didn’t even stop when it started to get light
He sang that SNAT song over and over
It stuck in my head even when I got older.
But what happened that day I remember like new
The SNAT stopped his dance and gave me my shoe.
He pulled me aside opened his mouth up so wide
I fast pulled away and tried hard to hide.
Was he trying to eat me, would I soon meet my doom?
I tried very hard to get out of the room
He grabbed hold of my hand pulled me out on the floor
Before I could blink, he was dancing once more
Snat showed me some steps he took it quite slow
In a very short time, I was ready to go
I grabbed the snat's hand and showed him my moves
Before very long we were hitting our grooves
He sang his Snat song, just as loud as can be
But then he just stopped and started looking at me
He grabbed my 2 hands, forced me right out the door
A tear fell from his eye and he dropped to the floor
What mystery is this? What is that Snat doing?
It was easy to tell something new was now brewing
Snat thought and thought, this I cannot admit
Had I just become friends with a Snit?
What is this now? How can this be?
Snits cannot be my friends they are different you see.
As a small child, things were made very clear
Stay away from the snits run away fast in fear
They‘re skin is not hairy their eyes are not blue
They do not know how to dance, not even soft shoe.
Snits live in a pit, Snats live on the land
Snats play in the woods, Snits play in the sand
Snits are quite different I see that is true
But just underneath they are much like Snats too.
I don’t care what they do I don’t care what they say
My new friend is a Snit I declare that today!
The Snat then approached me and made it quite clear
Saying, “I am your friend!” This was good news to hear
We sat and we talked about this and about that
He showed pictures of family and even his cat
We planned great adventures where we should soon go
Go out to the beaches and even see snow
I will tell you these stories when they do unfold
Exploring our world’s see, what treasures they hold
Now my adventure, must end I admit
I must go to my family way down in the pit
Just as I was climbing down in the sand
Snat was singing a new song as he traveled the land
Snat! Snit! Snat! 1 2 3 Snat! Snit! Snat! You and me!
Snat! Snit! Snat! 1 2 3 Snat! Snit! Snat! You and me!
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 8:00 AM UTC
I say unto you with a sniveling snarl,
Will you go on and be friends with an owl?
Why, YES! I said boldly with a pompety grin
My new owl friend will be lucky and win!
He will hoot and toot a most beautiful song
He will win a singing contest and sing all day long
We will take all his winnings and spend it on mead
We'll sing, drink and be merry, indeed!
we'll capture a horse and dress it in tweed
then ride to the sunset on our horse named, "Sardine!"
Sardine might get hungry so we'll feed him some hemp
We'll lay down to rest on a bed that's unkempt
We'll wake in the morning to see Sardine's fate
Sardine has died from starvation this date
The sorrow we feel is so hard to beat
So opon his flesh we started to eat
w'ell pair it with taters all mashed in a pan
we'll eat up our dinner as fast as we can
but hold on a second, how silly are we!
We tripped on some mushrooms we found on a tree!
our minds started swirling and twirling; so dizzy!
my owl friend shrieked and then started to tizzy
he gouged out my eyes and laughed at my pain
I fell to the ground and made peace with my name
for I never did say from whence I came
cause stories like this are not easy to tame
I lay here in misery, my friend's not to blame
It's all in my head, this silly word game
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
I've never been great at poetry;
The process always fails for me.
While mister Poe and Shakespeare last,
My writing ends up in the trash.
Their writing style, lost with age,
Their wisdom hid in ev'ry page,
The glory given where it's due -
These are things I cannot do.
My writing's forced; theirs doth flow.
I say it blunt; they say it slow.
Those areas that bless and move
Are places where I can't improve.
So why, with my lack of skill,
Do I keep on writing still?
With such a hopeless case as this,
You'd think I would already quit!
There was a time when I did -
My desk was shut; my pen was hid.
Then something occurred to me
Which changed it all instantly.
If Dr. Seuss had Shakespeare tried,
And Mr. Poe glorified,
And given up in dismay,
We wouldn't have his books today.
So keep on writing how you do
With that style unique to you.
Put your mind into use
(You just might be another Seuss)!
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 10:26 PM UTC
Stacks of letters
saying "no"
rejection can be
such a blow
most every writer
has some
even Dr. Seuss
though he had a chum
that's how the book
expressed it
when they said
who would have
guessed it
he'd pleaded
to so many
said maybe
ten or twenty
supposed to make
for less regrets
bid you continue
in your
attempts
but
then they drop the boom
bring you back your gloom
they go on to say
in these very terms
he bumped into a "chum"
who worked
for a publishing firm
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC
Be yourself
There is no one else
Be who you are
and say what you feel,
because those who mind don't matter,
and those who matter don't mind
And I don’t mind
I guess I Shouldn’t
cry because it's over,
But smile because it happened
It might overcome the sadness,
But i never quite escape the nostalgia…
How do you live,
With these broken memories in your head,
And happy feelings in your heart?
No one ever listens
How do I move on with the weight of my past on my back,
The comfort so welcoming
I always cry
Over the things that don’t matter
Hiding the hurt,
hiding the pain,
Hiding the tears that fell like rain…
So long ago, and yet,
Time is weird in my head
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
One Person
Two Person
White Person
Black Person
Asian Person
Indian Person
Old Person
New Person
This one has no food to eat,
This one has a war to beat.
Say! What a lot of people there are.
Some are dead,
Some have no bed,
Some even have no roof over their head.
But why are they
Separated from each other?
I wouldn’t know,
Go ask another.
Some are thin,
Some are tall,
Some are fat,
And some can even be quite small.
From there to here, from here to there.
Trump wants to create walls,
So, we can’t travel anywhere.
To get water,
Some have to travel,
Barefoot, on sharp gravel.
For miles and miles
They have to travel.
White, Black, White, Black.
White, Black, White, Black.
All distinguished from the colour of their back.
Some have two friends,
Some have one,
Some have ten friends,
Some have none.
Where do we come from?
A long, long way.
From a war place,
Come here to be safe.
We see them come,
We see them go.
Some come legally,
Some come by boat.
Some are tall,
And some are short.
We’re all different,
But we’re all human.
Yet, we’re singled out,
Just because we’re men or women.
Why?!
Is it okay to scream and shout?
Lesbian, Straight, Bi or Gay.
Is it good to call someone out?
Did you think it was okay?
Black, White, Old, New,
Gay, Straight, Man, Woman,
Asian, Indian, American, African,
Don’t you realise we’re all human?
Human!
It’s not a reason to be rude,
Just because I am different to you.
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 6:47 PM UTC
Imagine just how life might be
Without the old apostrophe
That humble punctuator we
Should deem to not be necess’ry
Of course, in all sincerity
We’d go on with what’s custom’ry
Just using them, so flippantly
From ** Chi Minh to gay Paree
A punctuation KGB
Would roam the streets incessantly
And persecute those, foolishly
Who slip one in ’twixt N and T
For every single time that we
Should use that little stroke, you see
Shall cost us, it will not be free
We’ll pay a high apostrofee
As months do pass, eventually
The use of an apostrophe
Becomes rare as a butterflee
Forgotten most entirely
With passing years, we’d eagerly
Write words in their entirety
Remarking, “is it not so twee
That words are not perfunctory?”
Our compromised efficiency
Would bother neither you nor me
And so arrives the time that we
Will make the world apostrofree.
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 10:23 AM UTC
"Stop writing" says one-half of my mind
"Just quit it's a useless skill, just biding your time."
While the other half tells me to get back on my grind
Not using what you have is like the sighted walking blind
I'm the head case that got thrown into chaotic box
With a fox in socks, but I've got a lot of time on my hands
With all these rusty old clocks, just ask Mr. Knox.
He'd say I'm still off my rocker,
Been a poet since skeletons started stalking,
Been writing since the doors got so jammed, they stopped locking.
So judge me, we aren't seeing through the same eyes
On streets where eventually it all dies
I've been my own therapist, philosopher, psychologist.
All I've got is the skin on my back, I gave away my clothes
No one knows where this rabbit hole goes
I bring shame to even hatters being this mad
You'll need a lizard with a ladder to climb to the mindset I've had
Welcoming all into my Wonderland.
I'd grab the devil by the horns
Just to say I rode that bull
Never born legends, but molded to heroes
Life chisels children to men in seconds
Beckoning demons, only time will tell your battle
With beetles in bottles or a half-million headed hydra
The sword is yours, own that fight, own the right
To go out into that good night
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 1:56 AM UTC
Imagine a world you create all your own, right down to the sinew, blood, and the bone.
Now how would you rule this whole world anew, populated by no one apart from you?
Would you make others to not feel amiss, feel the warmth of a hug or the gift of a kiss?
Or remain all alone, to avoid all the hurt. To grow bitter and cold finding hate to exert?
Now me, I don't know, but I know I'd prefer to live life beside others just as they were.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC