A VERY STRANGE POEM I WROT WHEN I WAS HYPER
Angel- OK, I accept Flames, but remember it's my first one. Rated PG to be safe.
^_^

On a planet,
Hundreds and thousands of light-years away,
Two tall leaders scheme and laugh,
As the shortest beg and bow in their Irken way.

On our planet,
A short alien schemes.
He's the shortest of them all,
And he isn't satisfied by anyone, or anything.
He calls to talk to the two tall ones,
Then bows, and calls them 'Sirs',
The tall ones are annoyed,
That this inferior short one called,
But they talked to him,
His hyper-active SIR bouncing along in the back ground.
Zim, the Irken, bids them farewell, Then shuts off the monitor.
He then turns to see what GIR is doing.

A few blocks away, a trench-coated boy was writing at his desk.
Dib was writing about aliens, it was the only thing he knew,
And his one hobby was exposing Zim of his alien-ness.

In these tree places, a bond is being made,
Human to Irken,
And Irken to Irken.
Which does prove, once and foremost,
Those two completely different species can all get along.