"These chains," you cry, "I must have off these chains--
The shackles of my Father's house and care!
But sever these, and Self alone remains,
Set free to seek its pleasure anywhere!" 

America, my child, my love for you
Is like a father's for a wayward son.
I grieve that you should scorn the love you knew,
Forsake your Joy, claim your estate, and run. 

I'm cavity-free,
So bully for me. 

Grandma post is dumb;
Nice concept perhaps, but the
Execution? Poor. 

Waiting for lunch
Wincing at crunch
Of parched corn in my cavity tooth

Snowing outside
Wishing I'd tried
To say hi to a friend from my youth

Sermon was good
Visitors stood
Didn't bolt at the sound of the Truth

Fragmented thought
Normally ought
Not be posted it's somewhat uncouth

Punctuate? No!
Time now to go
And I once knew a redhead named Ruth