I am the bad son
It's not something I did
If only I had done some
Then I wouldn't be that kid
That wrote a bad poem.
I know I don't rhyme
Or do any of that other cool writing stuff
I should leave that to my sister
She's good at that fluff
If only I'd taken the time.
Just call your mom it's not hard
Wish her a happy birthday
You big retard
But no I forgot
So I write this poem today
For forgiveness I plea.
And so does everyone else
So the poetry will go away.
Happy late birthday mom.
Sorry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
No, you aren't the bad son. You're the best son and I am very proud of you. You call a lot, you're very thoughtful. So big deal that you forgot that I'm old. I'd like to forget that too! lol Easter is a busy time for Pastors and I understand.
The first birthday I had after you were born was the first day that you laughed. Is there any sound more enjoyable than a baby laugh? I considered it the best gift I had gotten.
Fluff???? Fluff??? Yeah, sometimes. :)
-Tami
Post a Comment