BROKEN WRITING: written and heard poetry

The Crooked Man

There was a Crooked man, who walked a crooked mile. He found a crooked sixpence, upon a crooked stile. He bought a crooked cat, who caught a crooked mouse, and they all lived together. In a little crooked house...

But the crooked man was sad... and once he had a thought. Why should he be crooked, when others; they are not? Everything was worthless, he heaved a great big sigh, and went and found a rope, and tied it to the sky.

Upon a chair he stood, his eyes where blank and dead, without another thought, he went and hung his head. Now the storie's not over, for his tale is myth-ed and old, go and hide under the covers... There's something not yet told.

There once was a Crooked Man, who had a crooked smile, and if you lived his life, he'll send you through a trial. He lives for your torment, makes it full of strife, and he won't be content...
Untill you take your life.
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Sadly, not by me.
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