We're all mad here.

Mock Turtle Song

Study this poem - The Mock Turtle's Song - create your own version using any topic of choice. Keep same format.

“Won't you flow from brain to fingers?” said the Writer to the Tale.
“Slip in behind the Hero, and you're sure to find the trail—
Oh he wants to find his ending—save the girl and tie the knot.
But he needs us to take him there. Oh will you join the plot?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the plot?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the plot?”

Instead the Tale jumped skipping ropes and chased a rabid hare,
And painted toenail roses like it didn't have a care,
And sent ten thousand words about the ways to sink a yacht,
but not a single word was sent to start to build the plot.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not build the plot.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not build the plot.

“Oh please, oh please, I'm begging you, I'm down upon my knees.”
But the Tale chased whimsy and ignored the Writer's pleas.
Together they wrote rainbows while the Hero grew distraught—
Because he was in limbo while plot bunnies stole the plot.
Will they, won't they, will they, was there really any doubt?
With randomness at play, the Writer finally tapped out.