Throw that Kong, buddy,
and I'm going to find it,
bring it back,
drop it,
roll on it,
push my teeth into it,
and show it to all the other dogs.
That big stupid lab
is going to bound over
with his rolls of skin,
and try to take it from me,
but I'm not letting go,
not for that doofus,
with his stupid name,
and his stupider owner,
and her high pitched ear splitting
voice, as she's telling
everyone about her wax job.
Maybe I'll let him have it,
just for a moment,
because he has to live with her,
and hear her talk about her
wax job at least five or six
times a day for the next week
or so.
Here, take it,
or maybe you got it fair and square,
you big dumb lab
big dumb doofus.
No, wait, changed my mind,
because you're getting that
Iams breath all over my Kong
and the doberman, that bitch,
will take it from you.
This is a blog of some poetry I wrote at different times. Mostly it's about my broken heart.
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