Monday, July 12, 2010

The last bad poem before the author went on to do great things


It's that time when I'm in bed
Yet sleep is not what's in my head
I want to write importantly
To tell the world how it should be
But there's no time to snoop, to sleuth
And make my writing tell the truth
Instead I've got to compromise
Truncate my thoughts. Tell big, bold lies
A shallow rhyme won't interfere
When my tone is insincere