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 pi izz what I am.
I KNOW it!
I OWN it!
A cutie pi
izz what I am!”
Dis my furst origgonal pome. Sorry for da spellen. I izz puppy, you no. Spellen not on da list of tings I knead. Treats are on da list. Also bones, my blankee, an lotza kuddles. (O – an my minkey and da bare. I chace dem when Mommy trows dem. (I nevr bring dem bak, doe.) But spellen izz not so much big deel.
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 reely 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 deres faks and den deres
alturnet allternent not reel faks, dependin’ how he feelz at da moment. I tink heez mor narssissizzik selfie-centurd an rood dan ME!