Poetry

The Observer Who Comments

I was raised on the streets
I had not a thing to eat except
A breath of air, and not even fresh
In school I took tests, pure memorization
No practicality, hops
Banality rocks
In a world that dreads boredom
We ensured its antithesis
In the highest office
This is my rocker, I’m off this
Some people are born with no towel to toss in
Woe is they, I am repping for they
Kuz some people have too many problems
To blog about them all day

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