This poem is about every person I ever loved.
Michelle, Michelle
lives so well, like a queen upon a throne.
Why try too hard to get real close?
The Queen is busy, you'll get your dose.
She's dispensing fairies to subjects unknown,
like the court jester whose mind is blown.
The jester only wants to make her happy,
smiles knowingly observed as sappy.
Wandering, wondering, questioning fate,
at least that's something at any rate.
What's the point, you want to know,
questioning this odd one as belligerent foe?
Do not give up; please stay near,
consider coming 'round for beer.
This gentle fool is not psychotic,
just full of shit and a bit neurotic.
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