Yes, tax returns are a pain in the butt. I know … such professional wording, but it’s the only kind that fits my current sentiments. In order to try and console myself over the fact that we owe more than it would cost us to buy our daughter a used car, I decided to write some bad poetry.
Oh taxes, you kill me.
Upending my nonexistent bank cart on the street of desire,
you destroy my dreams of time wasted.
A dollar here,
a dollar there,
a dollar going who knows where.
A thousand here,
a thousand there,
a thousand pulls out all my hair.
See, it takes real talent to write bad poetry; and when you make it rhyme, it sounds even worse.
I think I’ve proven my point. Wanna try it yourself?
- National Poetry Map – “Fostering Local Poetry Communities” (lifeisanexquisitejourney.com)
- Pig Poetry (scrappig.wordpress.com)