This month’s said to be the most cruel
by Eliot–boy was he cool
he couldn’t have known
that writing 30 poems
would be the reason we’d all be so exhausted by the end of it that we’d be about to pass out in a puddle of our own drool.
I am still terrible at limericks. But I wanted to end NaPoWriMo on a fun note.
Today’s recommendation, because of the above reference:
I did it!