Thanks shauna, it's just the chatroom is a bit abusive sometimes.
Also everyone hates my poetry!!!
The Lonely Millionaire
The tour eventually ends.
He's between homes
His furniture's in a friend's cellar.
It doesn't matter where he lives.
It's beans on toast when he's at home,
Or he goes to a restaurant with a friend.
Always the people-watcher,
If he had any less presence,
He'd be invisible.
He drinks a little too much at the bar,
And silently slags off,
Each woman as she enters.
In some ways he's the ultimate playboy,
No woman good enough.
The only life that greets him,
When he gets home,
Is his dog,
Grateful to be out of kennels.
[name removed]
