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The Net
The net's a big headache
I need a bloke you see
I search and search for hours
But can't get one for free.
I bought myself a web cam
I thought I could chat and play
But there weren't any blokey blokes
Only the ones that were gay.
Hang on! Who's this?
It's a blokey figure
Reminds me of my granddad
But my granddad's thinner.
Says his name's Bertie
Asks if I'm into leather
Then he says I'm a bore
‘could've knocked me down with a feather.
Oh Wait! I must be dreaming
I see a tanned blokee
I smile at his picture
He smiles back at me.
He speaks, I can't hear him,
He hears, but can't see,
I think my PC's broken
Why does it happen to me?
I think I'm in love
I hope he feels the same,
Oh damn! My PC's crashed
And I never got his name..
poem
by
Hazel Connelly
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