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This Man is a Misguided Idiot

"No, it ain't about me or thee. Sheesh."

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99 words 99 words
This poem isn't forthcoming,
Which leaves me bumming,
Feeling like my head is scumming.

I have a filthy head,
though if I didn't, I'd be dead,
My head is also red.

Wait, that's blood,
it's starting to flood,
aw, I died, I'm a puddle of mud.

From the dead,
I spin this thread,
While you lot scratch your head.

What is this man on,
Has he been smoking a bong?
No, I'm like this, I'm an alien from Zong.

You lot don't understand me,
Just be clear, I'm better than ye,
Yer all so twee.

Get away from me!
Published 
Written by Circle_Something
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