No one I know ever really picks writing,
As a sane thing to do with their lives,
It waits in dark corners where monsters are playing,
It jumps on your back, quite rudely – just saying,
It whispers in ears when trying to sleep,
It punches your head, it tickles your feet,
It makes all your friends think,
You’ve become a complete weirdo,
…….then leaves you without a word to make it rhyme (I hate it when that happens).

bobby stevenson 2017



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