A Poem About Stretching

I tried to write this as quickly as I could.
I think it shows in the phrasing.

Perhaps there is a good idea in this and I should work on it and try and improve it, but if I do it likely won’t be for a while.

I think that at least the meaning gets across.

I hope you enjoy.

Stretching until I cannot stretch
And then I somehow stretch some more
My reach is weakened, my grip softened
Too thin am I to properly build

Despite how aware I may be
Of what I now have created
I dare not allow myself rest
For there remains more to cover

And so I stretch and stretch some more
Far, far more than I should allow
Covering much, yet seldom well
Surface is as far as I go

About Stupidity Hole

I'm some guy that does stuff. Hoping to one day fill the internet with enough insane ramblings to impress a cannibal rat ship. I do more than I probably should. I have a page called MS Paint Masterpieces that you may be interested in checking out. I also co-run Culture Eater, an online zine for covering the arts among other things. We're on Patreon!
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