The path of the budding poet is never easy; knowing this, I took with distant gaze the tin cans and old shoes thrown at my first attempt to envelop soaring emotions in the cloak of rhyme. Now I unveil my second poem, exposing it to the cruel examinations of an insensitive world.
Here I sit
My brain having thrown a hissy fit
Must complete two important essays on Barack Obama
But gray matter says No I don't wanna:
If you write another word on that churl
I will make you hurl
O woe betide!
Civilization may be lost for want of a barf bag!
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