Tell me a sonnet,
I don't care which one.
Educate the folly from my bones.
Teach me names,
Of great, inspirations.
And remind me in the there-after.
Tell me four facts,
Pick them at random.
But expect me to forget all you say.
Inform me of worlds,
Each stellar planet.
Mention which solar system they lead.
It is with greatest sympathies
And deep condolences
That I inform you
Your son
suffers
amnesia.
Author notes
This piece sucks. It doesn't "bottom of the barrel; crushed, bruised, and infested sucks", but it's below "okay".
For the record, I'm not amnesiac. And if I misspell it, it's because my dictionary's beyond arm's reach.
Pleasent dreams.
Written October 2nd, 2006
Adding your comment: