Poetry Poem by Percy Dovetonsils

Any dope
can see
it's a slippery slope.

The worst?
Write some yourself.
Up all night
with the joys of creation,
burst
into friends' breakfasts
eager to share
the least welcome
of guests.
What's music to your ear
the last thing
they want to hear
-dull
as a retold
dream.

It's your baby.
You're proud mom
and pop.

They hint:
keep it
and your dream.
If they snap
and swap,
telling you theirs,
you'll see
what they mean.