Product of boredom
... the context of this poem is a return jab for a certain sexist who believes (a matter of joke only, so the feminist may relax) that women can't read maps/ find their way... :D
I wish there was a rabbit hole, that,
Like Alice, took you to Wonderland,
A land so good or a land so bad,
Nonetheless, not the one you've always had.
Does the world ever tire you?
Me, it does, through and through,
Laugh when I don't, I find,
Something amiss, undefined.
Reason there's none, ennui, i guess,
I need therefore not, this matter, stress,
My tiny brain (without that extra pound,
Of which, a certain sexist, so profound,
Likes to gloat, that he may,
Use that pound to find his way). :D
I wish there was a rabbit hole, that,
Like Alice, took you to Wonderland,
A land so good or a land so bad,
Nonetheless, not the one you've always had.
Does the world ever tire you?
Me, it does, through and through,
Laugh when I don't, I find,
Something amiss, undefined.
Reason there's none, ennui, i guess,
I need therefore not, this matter, stress,
My tiny brain (without that extra pound,
Of which, a certain sexist, so profound,
Likes to gloat, that he may,
Use that pound to find his way). :D
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