Here I present my poem:
Pasty rolls and oven hot
Put away till tops get spots
Pre-rolled and pressed
So what’s wrong with it?
My dear, why care?
Darkened top and oven hot
Put away rolls, with more than spots
Blackened smoke, panicked shouts
God, will someone stop these pouts?
The oven’s broke- well what’s new?
It’s college dear, what’s wrong with you?