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Pain to Gain

Another little poem, just to pass away the time,
To make it easier to read Iíll write it all in rhyme.
It matters not, just what I say, the words just roll along,
And if you sing as reading this, it then becomes a song.

So, sing or read or whisper, whatever is your choice,
It matters not if mumbled, or in a nice clear voice.
For no one's going to listen to a senseless load of tripe,
Just wrote for sake of writing and to see the words in type.

For writing helps my fingers to flex and bend at will,
And helps my eyes to move about, instead of standing still.
It lets my mind find stupid things to put down on the page,
And leaves the reader looking, for some sense in my message.

But as I said itís rubbish, and thatís all Iím going to write,
Just a silly little poem, where the rhyme is far too tight.
I feel Iíve earned the right to this, to waste some of my time,
Let others tell profound events, while I just try to rhyme.

For rhyming is my party piece, and boring poetry too.
So I have written this one so your boredom can be true.
In reading to the end of this, thereís nothing will you gain,
Except to waste a lot of time and gain a bit more pain.

Ivor G Davies

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