ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖: Write a 12-line poem that makes no sense at all, and it must have a rhyme scheme.
Skeletons come out of the closet
and some out of the cupboard too.
When they see what's cooking,
they all turn baby blue.
The pan is filled with nothing
but bad apples and eggs.
However, it will cost them at least
an arm and a few legs.
So they pull and push each other,
but it's of no use.
Not a single bone in their bodies
comes even slightly loose.
YOU ARE READING
My Summer Nights
PoetryA poetry collection written for the Achievement Hunter Challenge
