There was an old lady from Chester.
Who did not allow wounds to fester
When stung by a bee.
She charged it a fee.
So now all the insects detest her
This lady was said to be bright.
So we used to meet up in the night
She was no use to me
For I could not see.
So I gave her away for a light .
Although I had tried to be free
She had a deep tie just to me
I tried to back out
I was right, have no doubt
But she tormented me with trained fleas
I suppose it is guilt that destroys
Without any sign or much noise.
We lose our own souls
We’re no longer whole
This makes me feel ultra annoyed .
Kindness is not always best
The world is designed as a test .
God will mark it at night
To our mind’s great delight
When do we get a right rest?
Eternal the rest may not be.
I always long to be free
Eternity’s short
That’s not what we’re taught
From lessons and lectures I flee
When we get to the end of the road
The fountain will have overflowed. The road will be wet.
Goodbye etiquette
Poor poetry is always a goad
How my heart sings 