Well, here I am again, making yet ANOTHER poem! Ah poetry, believe it or not, it was one of the hardest things to write in the past. Now, I feel I could be making poems like this weekly. THANK YOU ALL FOR THE LOVELY REVIEWS!

Today's poem is about the cluttered, but well-loved place we all know as: Oz's comic book shop. Yes, I know, first a person, then a thing, now a place. Seriously (or Siriusly) people, I told you that I would be doing things in a random order. Enough of my ramblings; ON WITH THE POEM!

Disclaimer: My feelings for you, are love and hate. It's odd, I know, you cannot relate. On one hand I am free from costly suits, filed by lawyers who never eat fruits. But you do nothing else; just sit on my chapter, deep down inside, hiding loud bursts of laughter. But mock me, scorn me, scream and shout, no doubt about it, I can't throw you out. Can anyone spare me, please, is there someone? No, fine, then I don't own Fanboy and Chum Chum.

Oz's Comic Book Shop

Cluttered beyond belief describes you,

Full of objects with different hues.

Has anything in here ever been used?

Anything, lying in here, askew?

Comics, posters, figures galore

You've never seemed to be a bore,

If a new collectible is in the store,

No doubt that it's also here, on the floor.

Owned by a small but loud German dame

Before she owned you, were you ever the same?

Before she, and Oz so swiftly came?

Will you tell me, or are you ashamed?

Though cluttered and noisy around the clock,

I can't help smile, when I walk upon your block

If you were to close down, it would be a huge shock

I'd frown, I'd sigh, I'd kick rock after rock.

You'll always have a place in my heart,

Right next to the Frosty Mart.

I hope we'll never, ever grow apart,

The choice to do that is never smart.

Well, there you have it. I did a new rhyme scheme, just so it wouldn't be the same old thing EVERY time. So, I think I'll try to do a character next time. Don't worry people. Just keep a lookout, and I will try to update soon. SOON I SAY! So, try to RUER (Read, Understand, Enjoy, Review), and the loud German dame (Oz's mom) should let me keep this thing up, instead of turning it into a fiction about goats and yogurt. *shivers.*

BYE MY WONDERFUL READERS!