Now I have iced Milo next to me.
Lecture notes all over the floor.
Finish them in a day, I am so ready.
The internet connection has been slow.
I have been very patient.
If it continues to go slow.
I for sure will complain.
I wrote this poem.
A poem of boredom.
I am pretty darn bored.
I want to play in the roundabout.
What am I talking about?
Sit back and relax.
But I feel want to shout.
Or just get me an axe.
Last time I saw a goat.
I know I don't have so much time.
Eh, does this poem make sense or not?
Who cares, because it has a rhyme!
:) -Rahman (2008).
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