This poor boyA Poem by Hickory Dickory
There is a boy who follows me 'round,
And calls himself my friend. If I shoved him to the ground, Maybe this will end. This poor boy without a friend, Gets on my last nerve. He drives me 'round the bend, Down every single curve. This lost boy without a soul, Really creeps me out. If he fell into a hole, I'd laugh without a doubt.
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1 Review Added on November 19, 2023 Last Updated on November 19, 2023 AuthorHickory DickoryAboutI love to write poems, no matter whether they are good or not, and I find writing them relaxing and theraputic. more..Writing
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