by | Jun 16, 2006 | Poetry | 0 comments

It’s frequently said, after I’ve gone to bed,
That I might have a terrible trait,
It’s not that I drool, pick my nose or am cruel,
It’s more that I’m deaf ‘coz I’m eight.

It’s also been said, that I’m easily led,
And I really could do with some training,
Poor Mum and Dad shout, so that I’ll make them out,
But I’m not really deaf, I’m just feigning.


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