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With matters of the heart,
Im still in the dark.
As confused as any other,
To unravel makes me shudder.

Rhyming is not my thing,
But there is no help I can bring--
Except to engage in the simplest of acts
and hope you dont come after me with an axe.

You enjoy the occasional word
In which your reply is occasionally the bird.
So to brighten the day for you,
I offer an insult or two!

Your mother, it seems
has a problem with seams
her dress seems to rend
and the sight of some men.

Your father is due
To be free of the "Blue"
Perhaps he will be home soon,
Or find more women to persue?

Your computer is fraked
the files are not backed
so when you turn it off tonight
gone be, your files might!

Your car may leak oil and mark where it has been,
But this is the least of its problems, use the recycling bin!
For when you turn the key, a grinding loudly sounds.
And a rod seams to have come lose, flopping around.

But it doesnt stop there, as the car sounds like it should--
you might be embarrased and hide if you could.
But the spots that it leaves around marks your way
from each house in the hood you visit each day.

For now I am through
with my word or two.
Try as you might
you wont top this poem tonight!