Running out to the street I hear a large boom,
I never knew that would be his doom.
My poor Patrick coming to see
His girlfriend he called me.
September seventeenth I will always remember,
Even though it is now December.
The dozen of scratches from head to toe,
Sat next to the present with the hot pink bow.
I look in the box
To see a bunny hop.
I will never forget the smell of his Holister perfume,
No matter how long ago was his doom.
No comments:
Post a Comment