This was the 80th poem I ever wrote, so I decided to do it around the number 80. Came out alright...
There's 80 things to do,
Before I die.
And 80 people got a clue,
You fail if you don't try.
I got 80 reasons left,
To live my life to the fullest.
But 80 mothers bereft,
From a cruel dictator's fist.
There's 80 things in this world,
That make me happy.
And as my life unfurls,
I got 80 dreams to live.
There's 80 wars going,
In this murderous realm.
Our hatred is showing,
There's 80 million deaths...
80 things to do,
80 people unlike you.
80 truths,
80 booths,
Full of 80 troops,
All ready to shoot,
And take the loot,
Don't give a hoot,
Because I got 80 things to do.
80 more rhymes,
Need to get with the times.
80 more lines,
80 men on the grind,
Can't free their minds,
From what's left behind,
Someone give me a sign.
80 reasons to be sad,
But there's 80 more to feel fine.
