It's almost New Years and I got my beer so let's make a toast to the host. I wanted to be in New York but that dork took all my money thinking it would be funny. So I'm stuck here in Dallas without my palace in somebody's trailer with a sailer. I'm hiding in there bunk all drunk dreaming of Time Square and how unfair this is I swear. My resolution for 2014 is to stay out the institution so I can become employed and buy a new android. I need to get in shape so I can escape this saggy booty isn't it a beauty. If I could only twitch my nose to become rich or maybe if I wasn't so blonde I could buy a bond. I need to take a vacation for my salvation to get me some freedom for my lonesome. Beginning this year all my fear will vanish like the blemish it was. I will not be lame and get a new nickname but I will be cool and not your footstool. Since this will be new I can be true to my poetry by being me. You might think I'm corky but mostly I'm a silly girl stuck in a ruck.
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Comments about this poem (Next Year by April Humason )
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