Not in the mood to write a limerick,
Just the thought of it is making me sick,
So I'll just type some random crap,
Then go back to taking a nap,
And just get this thing over real quick.
Damn snow is falling,
Inside I will be staying.
Weather's appalling.
If you want to read a limerick that's really bad,
So poorly written that it's really sad,
The fact that you're reading this,
Surely means something's amiss,
And it's so bad and sad, it'll make you mad.
I wish I had the luxury of a fireplace,
But looking around that's hardly the case,
It's just my little rented room,
About the size of a tomb,
And not much in the way of space.
It is incredibly cold outside,
With ice that'll make you slip and slide,
But let that wind blow,
'Cause I have nowhere to go,
So I'll just stay in and hide.
Why is it Haiku?
Is there a low coo out there?
Who decides this crap?