A rather obvious title for a rather obvious poem.
Here's the pen, here's the book-
There's a space inside if you take a look-
Oh, write anything, I don't really care,
Just something to fill up the room over there.
I know that when I'm fat and old
Disagreeing with everything I'm told-
I'll want to flip back and see;
See if when I was young, people could stand me.
In all truth, it's a sorry attempt
Since the dawn of time I was a source of contempt-
Ignored, a bore, a total snore
Bizarre, afraid and unsure.
My only friends have been my words-
And what purpose do they have when unheard?
So go ahead and sign, if you please
A few lines of insincerity, not too diseased
Something simple, that won't reach my mind
I have eyes but I want to feel blind-
Now, don't take all too long-
Otherwise I'm sure you'll get it wrong.
A false wish or compliment is all you need
It'll be easier for me to go back and read.