Shut My Mouth
Within every meeting are sown seeds of parting.
Hi echoes goodbye.
Rot follows ivy as
hobbled humanity (yes, us) flees time
although accidents happen with every eccentric tick
of a clock have hope,
but eventually you’ll be happy.
Spamagram: Below lurks the bizarre spam message that I anagrammed into the poem above.
“Even though you’re any of the lucky enough choices, it comes evidently, although capture the fancy with the certain coveted by ly folks other valuable you you meet may possibly possibly well have hard times this specific problem. pre owned awnings”