This poem is proof that I write what entertains me without worrying if others will like it. I don't expect ANYONE to be entertained by this poem, but it was fun to write. If you get a kick out of it then let me know. I have a psychiatrist that I can recommend. He has done wonders for both my personalities.
The Egg
I sincerely hope I am not the first
Not the only one in the universe
To declare their love and gratitude
If it is so I find it terribly rude
For who has given more and taken less
Go right ahead and take a guess
How can I keep my love silent any longer
To do so would make me a fan of needless hunger
Is there no limit to her many faces
Her variety of offerings is impressive
A pot, a pan, or even a wisked mixture
Or mixed with salad to add taste and texture
A rhyming doctor has long ago seen
They are so yummy even when green
Alexander the Great conquered and plundered
His success a sure sign he ate plenty of these when hungered
Despite her beauty she is not a diva
Sharing her plate with bacon or even pita
ur such a romantic
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