See the running of the king,
I think he’s angry at the swing.
He finds it hard to see the lion,
Overshadowed by the funny ion.
Who is that skipping near the bear?
I think she’d like to eat the gear.
She is but a silly woman,
Admired as she sits upon a Trueman.
Her thoughtful car is just an ache,
It needs no gas, it runs on shake.
She’s not alone, she brings a pen,
a pet bear, and lots of hen.
The bear likes to chase a horse,
Especially one that’s in the course.
The king shudders at the gorgeous girlfriend
He wants to leave but she wants the bend.
P.S. Nah, I am not high. I am just writing shitty poems now! Bless you.