<p>And on a hot, 33-degree day She sat in her room And wrote half a play. It wasn’t very good But it wasn’t very bad Yet she knew in her heart that really she had let herself down, left it too last minute. There were barely any scenes or characters in it. “But it’s experimental! […]</p>
And on a hot,
33-degree day
She sat in her room
And wrote half a play.
It wasn’t very good
But it wasn’t very bad
Yet she knew
in her heart
that really
she had
let herself down,
left it too last minute.
There were barely any scenes
or characters in it.
“But it’s experimental!
It’s avant-garde!” she cried!
and she cried,
and she cried,
and she cried,
and she cried.