The one with senseless poem.

I rmb the funny poem we had for our lit mid years. I'm inspired to write one now...

The murdocs.

The murdocs are a funny race,

Of pointy ends and rounded face!

Employed when needing form of light

Then sacked quickly, erased from sight.

Their selfless act; kamakazi-styled,

Brings them face to face with enemy ground.

Scraped and scratched, and deformed, no less,

The only tribute? A blinding arrest!

After cuffed together in a bundle,

The murdocs are mistreated; left in a mangle.

In the void! In the black hole!

They've served their purpose, and they were bold.

But the only recognition they receive,

Is but merely a blinding release.

Poor murdocs; they leave great legacies,

But none pay attention to their painful histories.

No one knows the murdocs' importance,

Nor of their deaths, which, should be reveranced.

They are but passing lights

In the vastness of night.

Used and thrown

Their contributions unknown.

I named them Murdocs in my poem

But Matches is what you call them.

-desmond.

Crazy enough?? haha.. its a movement which i call the "Remember the matches" movement.. haha..