Mad HatterA Poem by The Moaning PoetIn a little shop of hats, There lives a man who’s slightly mad. He barks at the chimney, Talks to the walls And worst of all he sings to the floors. Alone he works throughout the day, Quite content he chirps away. In a cage, there is a bird, It’s been dead since the twenty-third. But still, he taps on its cage, His hands dyed black, fuchsia and beige. © 2018 The Moaning PoetAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorThe Moaning PoetWolverhampton, West Midlands, United KingdomAboutHello my name is Nicola, I am 20 from England. My work is vague and I will not spend time explaining the meaning behind a piece. Just use your imagination, this is a literature forum after all. more..Writing
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