sibby

As I march in circles to the tune of an evil drummer,
My dream is to live to see the beautifull summer.
My brain is forced to expel information,
Oh how I hate this sensation.
To me it is so demaning,
With hate for this game I am teaming.
My brain has started screaming,
The drumers eyes are gleaming.
Finally this twisted game is ending,
I feel my mind slowly ascending.
My captors have released me,
The suns gleaming rays I can now see.
I run as far as I can,
At last I feel like a man.
FIN

Well that was my poetry....who thinks I should write a novel?