Balloon

This is not a great poem.
It has no valuable meaning.
I just want to tell you the story of
The red balloon on the ceiling.

I remember when I first laid eyes on this thing
Tied to my house's flagpole
On Valentines', which explains the shape-
A red heart, with accents of gold.

A few days after this was recieved,
It floated up to the top
Of my very tall living room
We were worried that it would pop.

But I came to it's rescue.
Let me tell you the wondrous story
Of how a young lady saved a balloon
In it's heights of glory. (not rly)

I was home alone at the computer,
Supposed to be doing my work
But instead I fucked around on Tumblr
And looked up Jake/Dirk. (derp)

Then I got up from the computer
For I was bored out of my mind
No messages, no updates of Homestuck
And what did I find?

It was tall enough to reach
The living room's height.
A stick! A big one, at that. (teehee)
But the balloon didn't come down without a fight!

I poked at it.
I tried to get it down from where it was.
But going down didn't work for it,
So instead I pulled it across!

Across and past the balcony
And so it was upstairs
And low enough for me to reach
So now it's right next to me, there.


The End.