Young Writers Society

While I sit here, a cigar -
“Oh yes, dear me, I
Don’t know where my manners are;
Take one you, and pass it around.”
Spin the cancer round and round.

I feel relaxed now, it’s all good
This is how I envisioned life
Back in my childhood.
I’m facing old friends, for who can forget?
The one and only friends that I can get.

Mr. Yellow, Mr. Green, and Mr. Blue,
Along with this little girl
(Her name is Sue).
Talking, catching up, you know,
Whatever friends do.

“Mr. Yellow!” I yell,
“How is your wife? Did she like my gift of
Potatoes and knives?”
I feel him pause for a moment
I knew his answer inside.

“And you, Mr. Green,
How is your spleen?
Did you eat those cabbage
I sent to you? You know,
This is right where they grew, on my floor.”

I grew irritated,
But my smile won’t divide
I am restless but still,
I keep it inside...

“Hello, Mr. Blue.
Tell me, do you like to
Eat cold, cold stew?
Just like what you spewed
On my nice, nice shirt?

How are you? Because
You see Mr. Blue -
I’M STILL TALKING TO YOU!
Ignore me, why don’t you?
Why won’t you? Why won’t you?”

I glance to my side, looking for Sue
But oh, those sick bastards -
“She was the stew!
Mr. Yellow, Mr. Green, Mr. Blue
Why ever did you cook Sue?”

I can’t stand to bear it, for
The room feels empty...

"Don't fret, my friends!
The room is empty!"