Such a conniving little toad
selling cars that barely run,
leaving lumps within the gravy
never thanking anyone.
A weasley little snit –
with socks that never match
Doors that lead to nowhere
with locks that never latch.
Your life is in a shambles
your career has lost its stride,
your hair – dearly departed
and only on one side,
Don’t think for just a moment
I wrote this poem for you,
it’s just that you were on my mind
and I had nothing else to do.
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