CAUGHT IN A DIRTY TRAP
OF ONES OWN
He hesitated
Looking lost and incarcerated
When he finally walked in
He found he was alone, all alone
Even the wanton birds
Sent as a gift by his friend, the Fon
Had flown out
Just because of that one, precious moment.
He doesn`t know he`ll never be reinstated
Even if he`s only slightly embedded
That`s why his old umbrella now looks like a fin
He has no phone
All he can do now is make useless girds
He`s so lost he calls himself Ofon
Doesn`t he realize he`s also lost the bout
Simply because he made the Fon lose that moment?
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