"A Poem Concerning Something Emotional, as Instructed By Dr. Hopper, Who is Going Bald."
By Mr. Gold.
Yesterday, I had therapy.
It was on a bridge.
During therapy,
Dr. Hopper tried to cross an iron beam,
Which was perfectly safe and not at all rotted out,
But got stuck on the iron beam.
He was scared.
In fact, I think that Dr. Hopper may have cried a little,
But I don't know for sure as I was painting.
Dr. Hopper stayed on the beam for quite a while,
And never came to see my painting.
I asked him for the teal green paint,
But he refused, as he is a bastard.
Being gracious in the face of fear,
I got the paint and can't think of anything that rhymes with bastard.
Saying bastard again will do.
I walked back to the bridge and continued.
Dr. Hopper stayed where he was.
He may have screamed sometime.
Shite, this is supposed to be about my emotions.
The fact that he didn't look at my painting made me very sad.
What the hell, Gold? It made you very sad?
What are you, twelve?
All right, different approach.
As Dr. Hopper refused to give me the teal green,
Which would properly express my despair,
I felt as though-
Hell, those words hurt coming out.
"I felt as though"
Bollocks.
How many lines is this?
Thirty-some? Above and beyond, Gold.
I'm scrapping this anyway.
"The Other Poem"
By Mr. Gold. Shitty title, that.
This
Is
The
Other
Poem.
It
Is
A
Direct
Sequel
To
The
Last
Poem,
Which
I
Scrapped.
You
Would
Not have liked it anyway