This satire poem takes off from a reasonable airport.
Until maybe the readers laughed loudly.
The author thinks it's like climbing a steep mountain.
Trained at the far right hand.

Ah, shit ...
Taik cat by nose smells.
The color is glossy white.
I almost stopped my worst poem.
In thinking I think, I say to the hand: "Continue".

It was late, cold joined to be friends.
I started to run out of ink, my absorbency didn't reach me.

My brain is still functioning, the smell of cats is becoming more and more.
Vomit me on my typing table. Oaakkk ... Spilling.

Cat litter, I said. Sambilan held it with my left hand.

Join eSteem University