Her crooked little glasses
Slip down her crooked nose.
Sitting on her crooked spine,
She curls her crooked toes.
Her loudly clicking knee joints
Along with clicking jaws
Will join the clicking symphony
Of all her clicking flaws.
She passes out in bathrooms.
She passes gas in bed,
Then passes on each odd idea
That passes through her head.
She flashes glares of warning
As her damn hot flashes strike,
And won’t care whom she flashes
As she strips when flashes spike.
She writes her thoughts in journals
And she writes a blog to share.
She writes in stream of consciousness,
And sometimes writes with flair
How ends this senseless rhyming?
What ends this silly trend?
How can the ends be tied up?
It ends like this: The End.
