First. No new verse, to out on the net.
Why should the Web dine free? My poem is me.
And as pretentious as that reads, the bit and
byte has an appetite for the flavors of identity.
The condiments of personality, the table scraps of
flaws, fears, and the fanciful commodified for a fee.
And we, as Bill of Fare, pretending to be unaware
are served as supper sans prayer at our free community.
Yep a wolf ticket at social media, but… in the sprit of doggerel.
Done day seven of NaPoWriMo 2018