UnPoetia:Two Paths

Poetry for people who hate poetry

One day, on a midsummer walk,

Two paths appeared before me.

One was the road with travel,

The other was pink.

The pink road was least travelled,

The Black Road with Gold Letters,

Was the most.

So I took that other road,

And my family was in grief.

So I took that other road,

My friends called me queef!,

And now I have AIDS.