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Title to be Decided Later


This was another poem written on the fourth day of my fever. I was disgruntled because school was going to start the next day, and I still felt ouchie. Anybunny want to be my huggy bunny-bear?

Title to be Decided Later

Tired of talking to someone?
Start correcting his or her grammar.

It's by accident, not on accident.
It's for whom, not for who.

No, no, you haven't grasped this at all!
It's not real easy; it's really easy.

It's is not the possessive form of it. It's its.
You haven't learned it wrong; you've learned it incorrectly.

You're not doing good. You're doing well.
Well...not really.

Agh! You're splitting your infinitives and dangling your participles!
Who's the teacher here, and whose grammar are we correcting?

You're taking it there, not bringing it there.
You're making fewer mistakes, not less mistakes.

You haven't past this yet.
But you haven't passed it, either!

Tired of talking to someone?
Don't correct their grammar.

Your welcome? No.
You're welcome.