No

No.
I said it once.
Do I have to repeat
The gravity of my decision?

No.
I said it twice.
That’s two times more
Than you deserved to hear.

No.
I said it thrice.
Perhaps the third time
Will be enough to disappoint you.

Yes.
I said it once.
And now you take for granted
My permission.

Get lost.

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The writing on the wall

Have you seen the writing on the wall?

It doesn’t tell about the people who must suffer
It’s not a story of a broken-hearted lover
It doesn’t portray hate against the government
It doesn’t spark debate on unemployment
It wasn’t scrawled down by a soul that wrings in agony
Nor by a woman fighting hard against misogyny

Have you seen the writing on the wall?
It’s just a scribble by a 12-year-old.

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This poem was requested on Fiverr.
Order your own poem to support me!

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Mr Bear’d

There was a bear called Mr Beard
And, frankly, he was always very weird
He didn’t shave, nor did he care
That his weird looks made people scared!

One day, he went out for a walk
When a fine voice began to talk:
“Oh Mr Beard, if you’re so brave,
Why don’t you have the guts to shave?”

He turned around to have a look
And saw a cat reading a book
“Why would I want to shave my fur?”
To which, the clever cat just purred

And leapt away without reply
Left Mr Beard wondering why
So Mr Beard, forevermore
Stayed just as furry as before

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Nicotine

It’s one, then two
Then, suddenly, you’ve lost all count
What an incredible amount of
Nicotine

The time and energy you found
The money you could go without
What an incredible amount of
Nicotine

You’ve risked your health
Sacrificed your wealth
Oh, you deserve your fix of
Nicotine

And bit by bit
Filled out with guilt
You now have built your
Guillotine

Without a doubt
The cigarettes have smoked you out
What an incredible amount of
Nicotine

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Summer’s almost gone

Everyone’s so damn excited ‘bout spring and summer
But hey, for the next month it’ll be far too cold
And once midsummer strikes, the sunny days are almost over
Bright Helios will set down earlier, the days get old

And after that, each morn that will come hither
You’ll know that’s one day’s worth of summer hours less
Towards all rainy autumn, harsh, cold, hard winter
And nights and darkness; endless, lifeless mess

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Whom am I kidding, bloody hell
When I say “everyone’s excited”, count me in as well!

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