Poetry

Mr. Hyperbole

Poor Mr. Hyperbole,

the saddest man you’ll ever see,

his heart is made of straw and hay

(at least that’s what he likes to say),

it burns with fire half the day

then all the rest is blown away

except his words–his fixation–

which negate exaggeration

 

 

 


I feel terrible that I haven’t read through everyone’s stuff all this time. I will be back at the blogging more when May rolls around. Hope everyone is doing good. If anyone needs anything just use the contact page. Until then, happy trails and God bless! –C. D.

9 thoughts on “Mr. Hyperbole

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