I giggle in pride writing the obvious, the ******
Kindergarten feelings
I feel sad, mad, happy, sappy.
Rhymezone, songs, and great works stealings
Roses are red violets are fine,
My poetry could be written by a child as young as nine
Punctuation is still a mystery?
Ironically, I teach Shakespeare!
I will say, love poems and alcohol do not make good bedfellows
Sophomoric mumblings about a sunset's yellow
I take solace knowing even Rupi wrote bad poetry sometimes.
Yup, I compared myself to Rupi. Also, F**K this last line.
