Bob was pleasant
Bob was nice
Bob would do, whatever somebody asked him to
Bob floated on the ocean of good public opinion,
storms, and squalls, and hurricanes
gave him migraines
there were monsters lurking in the deep, too.
He always found a way to float,
he wished he was a submarine.
There were no storms under the sea
trying to blow him off course.
Bob was a nice guy—too nice.
He enjoyed being patient,
but there were some days
when he thought
he might lose his mind.
even if you are kind
that doesn’t mean,
women won’t be mean…
Bob knew there were mean men too,
but he dealt mostly with women.
I guess the point of this poem is…
Bob needed to sink
He needed a way to cope
He didn’t want to turn to dope
he began writing,
and all of his negative crap