by Laura Ahlman
(I am not a poet...and I know it).
My quadmates seem to be stealing my soap,
At least now their dishes would be clean, you’d hope,
But nope
Oh, how will I cope
I am starting to become mad,
Because they make my living conditions so bad,
It is just a little sad,
That they can’t figure out how to open a Glad,
They never hear it when people knock,
But constantly invite people from other blocks,
To enjoy whatever is in their wok,
And pay no attention to the clock.
They fail to clean up the eggs they broke,
On Thursday, they filled the building with smoke,
I wonder how many ways they can make me choke,
I really wish I were making a joke
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