Would a scribble on a table

tell a tale if it was able?

Should the fly up on the wall

write a book and tell it all?

Would the money that we save

prefer to see a sunny day?

They tell me “fake it till I make it”,

if I bend it, will I break it?

If two wrongs don’t make a right,

is there occasion when it might?

If all good things must come to end

this poem must stop here, my friend!