I decided to put one of my poems up here since I enjoy writing poems, yes things are probably spelt wrong and I really don't care, plus I was a little pissed off at the world when I wrote it, but here it is.
The Pen by Me
There was a man named Bill,
who always wrote with a quill.
One day he spilled some ink,
which truly made him think.
I wouldn't spill ink in my den,
if I just only had a pen.
So Bill went down to the store,
But not after ink, no he was after more.
He found himself that pen he wanted,
so he went to the front and then counted,
out the change that was in his hand.
But he just could not understand,
why did I leave my bills at home,
and all these pennies sit in my hand alone.
The clerk asked Bill for fifteen cents,
but Bull only has just six pense.
So Bill said fuck it, and stabbed the man to death,
till that poor clerk had breathed his last breath.
Then Bill walked out of that store,
he could have taken more.
But he only wanted one single thing,
the object that he would only bring.
It was that simple bloody pen,
that he brought back to his den.
Unknown "Couch Hippie" Dazed
- 16 years, 28 days ago
