Finally – a new poet explodes upon the literary scene. Her name is Lucy, and she’s a puppy. She has taken pencil in paw and written her first opus. Enjoy.
Dey say a cutie pie izz what I am.
I KNOW it!
I OWN it!
A cutie pie
izz what I am!
Dis my furst origgonal pome. Sorry for da spelling. I izz puppy, you no. Spelling not on da list of tings I need. Treats are on da list. Also bones, my blankee, an lotza cuddles. (O – an my minkey and da bare. I chace dem when Mommy trows dem. I nevr bring ’em back, do.) But spelling… not so much.
I just want to tank da nice people who tink I izz cute.
Because dey izz rite – I izz frickin adorbs.
Mommy sez I can’t say dis, because izz
narssisstick… naresizisick… narsiktik…self-centurd an rood. But Mommy is wrong, becuz I really IZZ frickin adorbs. Dis izz a fak, and faks izz reel.
Or dey were – befor dat weird orange two-legger started orduring eveyboddy aroun and sayin’ dere’s faks and den dere’s
alturnet allternent not reel faks, dependin’ how he feelz at da moment. I tink heez mor narssissizzik selfie-centurd an rood dan ME!