anyone wanna read my weird poem???

Ho. Hum. Life. Goes. On.



Maths was invented
by A geriat-
ric typewriter With
death on its mind The
twirling column of
Dust roared into the
sky Finnegan’s wake
stretches Far and wide
In morning light
the sun Glowing orb
of white Is lit by
the hand That shines gold
They float on wings Made
of laughter And blot
the sky Sultry and
blue, without A care
Life lessons churn Turn
in the mind He climbs
the stairs The flutters
turn About a pir-
ouette When things go
wrong eat cake...breathe...breathe...



Brigitta. Summers.

i told you it was weird.