Please, no one panic, don't lose your head.
Sure, things've gone wrong since you climbed out of bed:
The teapot went over, you dropped that old vase,
the rainy gray weather's given you blahs.
You missed the bus and got drenched by a car
(for dry cleaning your paycheck's not going far).
Late punching in, and you drop all your papers
right in the puddle of AC-made-vapors.
The ink starts to run, but what can you do?
You're helpless to stop it, so it all just bleeds through,
mussing your numbers so carefully figured
into nothing more twisted than lines most disfigured.
Alright, so you think, let's get this day through
and promptly trip on the lace of your shoe.
Oh, humiliation... can this get any worse?
Of course, it sure can, let's continue this verse:
You fix all the papers as best as you can
after you dry them with a substandard fan.
But of course, with today, something has to go wrong,
so they fly out the window. And then before long
someone comes, asks you if you're ready to go.
You're presenting today! You forgot! Oh no!
You search for the flash drive, oh where could it be?
Left on the desk in the great rush to leave.
It's not a big deal, you'll just have to wing it
Which isn't so easy when you're asked to just sing it.
"Take what you found, and put it to song,
and maybe a tap dance routine to go 'long."
Don't panic, don't panic, whatever you do,
there's someone in a worse situation than you.
Not attacked by the toaster, or being brought in
for falling in love with a store manniquin.
Not sleeping with fishes, nor having to write
a poem on the spot... which I'm doing, alright?
I can do the humor, just not on command.
Most likely I'll fail this, and I understand.
But I gave it a shot, and I hope you approve.
And if not, that's okay. I am game to move
onto another poem topic or tourney
should this be the last leg of this poetic journey.
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