SKURKAS POEM [COMPETITITION!!!!!1]

[Andrew Juniperfield]

How about write me a nice poem?

It is my decision that this incision is due to intuition
The poem in question, about Wolven's affection

You know the day is here, even if you still hold on to your ear
I've got a suspicion that your position is in debt to the inept beer

I've got a confession that your depression is the obsession that gives me a  compression in my chest
You fill me with compassion but there is no passion in the ration thats the best

Wolven is not the wolved end, he is but a name, a name you cant blame for the fame of the lame flames
This text goes on, but there is still no sext in the thames

Help me with the shark, its barking in my park trying to spark the heat
Its feeding and leading a carpet of bricked feet

Winning this competition is not the precision expected from the deposition of words in the heards turds cornflakes
A handshake can mean a bland bake, but never a manned flake in Blake's faked stakes

Skurkas is stupid, but not cupid
I ate a broken piece of a motorized vehicular device, now im slipping all over ice, its putting me in a vice

I will not win, for this poem instantly goes to the bin, its not sufficient for the tin