From the mouth of a frustrated bad poet
|Lest I be forgotten in this strong stench,
I shall let you know it has come to pass.
Tired and drained, smelling quite far from French,
Sadly in this round I have gained some class.
Stinking power has faded;I'm so upset.
I must now take this into my own hands.
Standing on the ledge, I think I can let
go of the hurt I have felt on these lands.
Letting myself fall away from this plight,
the last of my stink floats into the clouds.
I know now I couldn't have won this fight;
I've never fought well against massive crowds.
So long, my fellow stinkers of the day.
I've come to find this isn't the way.