This poem is in remembrance of this guy I met, cannot remember his name. There now, that is an insult. By far less repetitive and I even have a rift to go with it. I think I have seen mister twister around. Maybe he would like to see what I have done with it.
I’m so gothic.
I’m so gothic.
Look at me.
I’m so gothic.
Got a big black hat
and pointy shoes.
It must be night,
Because in the day I snooze.
I’m so gothic.
I’m so gothic.
You looking at me.
I’m so gothic.
Wait right here,
I’ll hurry back.
Got to rush home
to smoke my crack.
I’m so gothic.
I’m so gothic.
They are looking at me.
I’m not gothic.
I’m not gothic.
I’m not gothic.
Don’t look at me.
I’m not gothic.
Got long hair,
but I behave.
Going to take my friend
to a techno rave.