Gravel
Lying in the road, dirty and alone
It's rejection I bemoan
I have a collection of these dusty rocks
But some say it's not even worth dirty socks
They're made of boulders crushed to bits
But my admiration nobody gets!
Nobody cares about this stuff
Yet without it travel would be tough
Shining in the sunlight upon where we tread
It's glory makes it seem like a comfortable bed
Oh no! What's this?
Something's amiss
For now I have glasses after a travel
And my affection appears to be towards gravel!
Um... A dead guy maybe?
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