Poetry Reading
This poet is dreadful,
He cannot rhyme,
For he is terrible at it,
This sad, lonely poet.
He sits in his basement,
Eating porridge and drinking brew,
Thinking up new ways,
to sit there and stew.
His rhymes are terrible,
His rhythm in decline,
For he is a sad, lonely poet,
And doesn't even know it.
He cannot rhyme,
For he is terrible at it,
This sad, lonely poet.
He sits in his basement,
Eating porridge and drinking brew,
Thinking up new ways,
to sit there and stew.
His rhymes are terrible,
His rhythm in decline,
For he is a sad, lonely poet,
And doesn't even know it.
2 Comments:
Avoid passive voice at all costs!
Aye marm.
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