In the corridor we chill
This poem is no thrill
Its like climbing a hill
No one pay the bill
Cause the cashier called Dill
He really wants to kill
The man who work at the mill
The car goes a mile
In my throat is bile
Books in a pile
I gotta lotta style
The river's called Nile
100 GB is my poem's file
YOU ARE READING
Random poems
PoetrySong-like poems made mainly for the fun rhyming effect than anything else. No deep meanings, no complicated and flowery language; just good-old random poems.
