I have a black cloud in my head instead of a brain.
It’s all negative charges and laden with rain.
How the frogs got up in there I can’t really tell,
but they’re freezing, and pissing, and croaking like hell.
With this metaphor, you’d think a downpour was due,
but i’m dry as a dessert from eyes to my shoes.
My grief’s nearly gone, but gone too are my joys,
my thoughts all cacophonous amphibian noise.
You might guess I’m depressed from the signs I exhibit,
and you’re probably ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, ribbit …
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