If you're wondering what i've been doing these past couple of months since I've left Loka, here is your answer. I have decided to dedicate my spare time to the sweet, simple art of the verse. There are few things that can satisfy my mind such as this fine art. Without further ado, I give you an short story about something that happened to me earlier.
Twas going back home,
atop a 4 wheeled carriage.
In a vehicle painted chrome,
the driver was a savage.
I had eaten a heavy lunch,
mostly beans, some meat and cheese,
and then it hit me like a punch
and I let out the ghastly breeze.
It was quiet like a spy,
yet powerful as a bomb
It's odor made me want to cry
And hide away in a tomb.
Yet I had reached my destination
so the bus I had to leave
and leave them with my condensation
until they began to heave.
And thus my short story ends.
If you coudn't guess from the start,
What I released in the bus,
Was a deadly silent fart.
Twas going back home,
atop a 4 wheeled carriage.
In a vehicle painted chrome,
the driver was a savage.
I had eaten a heavy lunch,
mostly beans, some meat and cheese,
and then it hit me like a punch
and I let out the ghastly breeze.
It was quiet like a spy,
yet powerful as a bomb
It's odor made me want to cry
And hide away in a tomb.
Yet I had reached my destination
so the bus I had to leave
and leave them with my condensation
until they began to heave.
And thus my short story ends.
If you coudn't guess from the start,
What I released in the bus,
Was a deadly silent fart.
