No, I don't write children's books, nor make ridiculous rhymes, my creativity is more morbid, a sign of the evil times.
My brother was a doctor,
You may know of his work, I can't stand his shitty books, I know I'm quite the jerk.
He always gets the credit, mother's favorite pet, he had all he wanted, even his own private jet.
I'm tired of living in his glory, what do these flesh puppets know, morbid poems are my specialty, let the disgust flow.
I will write a best-seller, I will be better, you will see, society loves my darker side, don't you really agree?
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