Y I Right,
Right.

I can’t sing
My speechifying has no ring
My wit lacks any zing.

Painting leaves them sad
My colours suck a tad
Brush strokes… well they’re bad.

While I might love to dance,
Even an elephant likes to prance
So in nimbleness, I haven’t got a chance.

Even computers aren’t my mode
You really should see my code
Not much unless you want your processors on overload

So I write

Badly I admit
And I don’t care, not a whit
Cause I deliberately make it shit.

And it you are reading this
Then I would be completely and totally remiss
In pointing out…

On occasion of realizing I’ve lost my forum