I have no delusions about the quality of my poetry. It is really bad, but I have a lot of fun with it because I don't even try to make it good.
My Wandermonster has wandered away,
And bid of me that I should stay,
And partake of things that give me cheer,
So far away from he who's dear.
But bright Nintendo makes me glum,
And reading books is simply dumb,
So what remains can only be,
Writing Nick bad poetry.
This only goes to show what a poetical bad-ass Bava is.
1 comment:
I suppose cheesiness has some merit. ;p
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