Spare the rod, I’ll never write

Spare the rod

I‘ll never write

You‘ll spoil me if you do

I write poetry as punishment

For what I didn‘t do

I confess into the void

Of which one never can return

I just burn it after reading

And forget the things I‘ve learned

I’ve spent many years convincing me

Of things I didn‘t do

But it‘s far too late to set me free

It’s 23 skidoo

Me?  Little ugly man

And shrinking by the minute

So alone in my abandon

As I‘m slowly disappearing