A Fictional Poem (Mostly Fictional)

I threw my pen at work today
I don’t know why I did
I threw my pen at work today
Just like some stupid kid

I threw it right across the room
It bounced of Will’s forehead
The conference room felt like a tomb
I wished that I was dead

They looked at me amazed – aghast
I blushed a deep, dark red
My cheeks felt broiled, or grilled, or braised
My hands flew to hide my head

I ran from the meeting
No one said a word
Will rubbed the ink off, seething
And flipped me quite the bird

I shouldn’t have done it, of course I shouldn’t
I can’t  believe I did it
I threw the pen, restraint just couldn’t
Stop me when the urge hit

I was so ashamed, and filled with gloom
I didn’t need reproach, or blame
When I threw that pen across the room
And cried and wailed in shame

The moral of the story is to
(I ruefully confess)
Watch yourself and what you do
And stay home with PMS

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