So this will be short,
Here at my court.
Because I'm on my phone,
As I give this groan.
For the computer is busted.
Pat's arm is rusted.
Thanks to some fecking physio jerk.
Which for writing is not a perk.
Miss Priss has anxiety crap,
And the cat literally has the runs that aren't from his trap.
One fecked up place,
Is surely the case.
So if I am slow,
Getting to your show.
Now you know why.
Wish it was a lie.
At least I still have posts until the middle of July,
All done so the rhymes can still fly.
Hopefully soon this shit will pass,
Oh well, I'll still try my best, on a crappy phone, to be a little rhyming ass.
Experience spring, have a fling.