Hey, you!

I'm writing a crappy poem, oh phew.

I'm not doing this for money.

I understand that I'm not the best at this, honey.

My rhyming structure is off.

Oh, god...

 

Hey, you!

I wish I had a pet moth.

I would name her Stacy.

I bet her mother has got it going on.

Maybe you and I could then write another generic song.

We could be like hobos, and sing it on the local corner.

 

Hey, you!

I wish I had a pet rock.

I would name her Tracy.

Stacy and Tracy could sit in a tree.

I could then catch them K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

Why the hell would a moth even kiss a rock?

 

This is obviously a random thing I did on the fly.

I am well aware that I should have wrote about pretty objects and butterflies.

Nobody cares about rocks and moths.

I guess my brain is just going soft.

Well, this is the end.

Bye, you!

 

Okay, I'm actually not done yet.

I'm writing this to inform the world of something.

I am like Stacy and Tracy.

Nobody seems to care for me.

I am now done for real.

Good day to me, Ms. Pretentious-tool.