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He was standing there; mortified, frozen
In the middle of the street
Glancing right, glancing left
Behind him, even above him
Terrified
Terrified that someone might have seen.

He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut
The fear shooting through his body
The top of his head
Bare as the day he had been born
Horrified
Horrified that this should have happened in such a public place.

In a snap, quick as a wink
He shrugs into the collar of his greatcoat
And makes a mad dash down an alley
And disappears
Never to be seen by me again.

Another gust of wind blows
And I spot his toupée
Vanishing down an open manhole
:icontochterauselysium:

Author's Comments

Here's just a hunk of nonsense I had to write for a poetry portfolio project in the ninth grade. For whatever reason I brought the portfolio of shitty poems to Germany with me and read them all in my free time. I found this one amusing because I have a bad sense of humour and decided to post it. This is known as "Scraping the bottom of the barrel."

I don't know what kind of poem it's supposed to be. It was filed under "Observational" for the project, and I got an A on it so I guess it was good enough for the teacher. :XD:

And RIP being able to use the é due to stupid dA title restrictions

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:icondoreean:
I loved the atmosphere somosh- you made it sound like the toupeé was flying through Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd set.

WIN :excited:

--
Back off me, man! Back off!

Please sit back and relax: [link]

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August 23
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