Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Mark's Poem Archive - 7. The Wildman Of Fylingdales Moor
The Wildman of Fylingdales Moor
Am I the Wildman of Fylingdales Moor?
If the truth be told, I am not sure
I live all alone in the wilds, that’s true
And run around naked when nowt else to do.
I lob out the window, which means takes a pee
There’s nobody to mind, nobody can see
I eat with my fingers, and sleep in the wood
But it’s all ok; it’s all well and good
I jack off by day, and often all night
My voice makes me jump, and gives me a fright
I talk to my animals, like they understand
And put up with Luke, he’s the work hand
I am clean and smart, just not that posh
I have a tin bath, or a spring trough wash
So am I the Wildman of Fylingdales moor?
I still don’t know, I’m still unsure
- 4
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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