Printer, Printer, on my desk,
Why do you act so grotesque?
You slide and scream and play along
but you always make my pages wrong.
They are green and not red
and the tiniest bit smudged.
You fell to many pieces
when I gave you a nudge.
You chew paper into weird shapes
like mutated origami.
And sometimes the pages are greasy
like fresh peeled salami.
You scream and holler bloody murder
as if you don;t get enough attention.
You are guilty of worse nightmares
that I can't bring myself to mention.
So Printer, Printer, o so near,
I won't shed another tear.
You can no longer cause me misery.
Because next semester I'm taking calligraphy.
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