Board Thread:Fun and games/@comment-30384301-20170227144815/@comment-27853587-20170318005538

Poetry rule.

You fool.

You shall die.

Now we can have pie.

And, just to take it home...

Here is an anti-love poem:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Now let me go and find the dead.

The answer is zero; been thinking for days.

I need you like I need a hole in my head.

The thing is, Whenever I ask where you are,

I always hope you say "far away",

And that you have no money or car

And where you are, you're there to stay.

My hill!

Now pay the bill!

You're going to die.

I'd like to see you try.

It is time.

You can't beat my rhyme!

Now go to bed.

You ought to be dead.

My control cannot be beat.

My ideas are all sweet.

The answer is the poetry rule.

If you don't follow it, you're a fool.

You can never outdo me.

If you don't know that, you can't see.

I am always the best poet here.

I am very far from mere.

Even you can never show it.

You know I am the best poet.

You not seeing me is bad.

I don't care if this makes you mad.