Hand the Poor Things Some Tissues
I see the kids have come to play,
And earnest nonsense rules the day.
Such fierce emotions, lofty thoughts.
“My boyfriend left me. All is lost!”
So agitated are their muses
That each regularly uses
Misspelled words, and incorrectly.
How I long to say directly,
"Stop. Keep calm. Reflect a day,"
But they won’t. They’re kids at play.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 46 times
Written on 2023-05-19 at 00:00
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