Gone, gone, the beauty of her eyes dispatched
To some other moping moron’s charms,
His bulging verses making me curse (natch),
Snatch rabbit pellets from her seaside farm.
Well, it's over. Stopped at six six nine four.
My heated emails unopened, what's new?
The county sheriff just showed me the door.
Matted residue still covers me, phew!
Over hills I streak, throw poems in air
And stuff my mug with grey spam all the while.
Autumn smoke encircles, I do declare
Even Hallmark laments I'm out of style.
A pocket of pellets, mangling a tune,
Ten minute classics and a life of ruin.
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