Some times we need to write lame poems...

Wrote this one a while back...

She's so inactive, she thinks it's unattractive.

Truth is, screwed up by not knowing what's glowing.

These are the days where the rain is pouring,

she still thinks you're snoring,

you're shooting, scoring,

and she's still ignoring.

Mother dear shakes her shoulder

Still asleep, she's never felt colder

wonders if she'll ever feel older

but she likes the way things look

Through windows she'll notice that she can't focus.

Behind the dew, she can't peer through

The dew won't blur without a sir. 

She chooses to wear

a white feather in her hair.

Good luck darling,

now stop snarling!

Cowardice or a new beginning?

What man is, is a reasoning whiz.

We choose what's best, cause we are blessed.

So cowardice, or a simple kiss?

Never go to Britain, 

you'll never be smitten.

Out the door, smells the wet of the floor.

Takes comfort in

the pavement's spin.

Mother's windshield wipers wipe off the excuses,

Those dewy, dewy excuses.

And she focuses on the outside, only to see

that the sunrise has been obscured, unfortunately

by the gray of the clouds. The ones I've always loved

Unconditionally, their shape and size doesn't matter

The fattest man I've ever loved

The grayest man I've ever loved

He covers you, out of jealousy and rage,

And I can't move him from the stage

Tis a show for all the rain lovers to enjoy

and another excuse for the sun to destroy.

You are the sunrise, you really are.

I noticed it first, and I still like them.