I do not want to write today
said little Peggy Ann McKay.
I have a life, or maybe tunes,
would rather sport and run with loons.
(Bad picture, there,
what do I care?)
I have a tic in my right eye
that makes my meter go awry.
My pencil’s wet, my pen is dry,
alliterations multiply.
My neck is stiff, personas weak,
you’ll hardly miss me when I sneak
some stolen words into my verse.
NaPoWriMo can’t get much worse…

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