Skinning a cat
Requires a much ado of skill
It is no small feat
And if you are not careful you will reap
All the tacks and all the ties
And all the large little sighs
Of the French and the Spanish
And the Russians and the Germans
And the children who want to be good
And the worriers who are not too cool
And of course there is a mess
That you will not soon confess
That your grapes of wrath are upon the table
And I am no bum or disable
So good luck in your quest
To seem to be better than the rest
As you really like the day of fun
But your room is filled with less than just the sun
So to you I will confess
I liked you among all of the rest and more
But of course I found it to be quite a bore
When you wanted to exert that there could be a war
To discuss the allies and the eyes
For finding a touchdown in the sky
And of course you are brilliant
And I liked that you could really do it
But I just can not skin the cat backwards
It was fun but it left me in a hatch of cat guts and hair.
This poem is about going over my head in sports talk.
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