My Parrot



A pirate without a parrot is a wound

But how does he pick his object?



Any way to reflect

Not fed by a silver spoon

Turns this man into a loon.

I, myself, am not immune

And if found in a strange lagoon,

Fate itself would have checked

A revelation otherwise opportune.

And, though this far, I have trekked,


I am still not sure what I would bring.

Perchance (like the buccaneer) a beloved pet,

Or a mound of flashy bling.

It seems to me that my best bet

Would be a positive mindset

(So as to refrain from any regret

When left only with internet).

Yet it appears a thing

I should never need to wring

My hands over, for as a king

Of, essentially, anything,

Any sense of upset

Of the situation, the whole thing,

Could never be as bad as college debt!

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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