The rain pours off the gutter. Dark clouds follow. Lightning strikes
A midnight comet strikes across the sky. The clouds bow down. All is still.
Please, oh please get rid of these fleas, they fly and buz, and then sometimes get hit by a bus.
If I wrote this #poem, would you believe it?
Do you know how lucky your are? Lucky not to have known where the wild things are? Lucky to have ears and not beers? Lucky to have arms instead of farms? And all of the other things you are lucky about.
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