"Why fish a tricky pond?
I wish the picky blonde
Would try a bite at least.
Good guy: a right fat feast!" 

I really like albinos.
(Except albino winos.) 

The rhyme will not get longer,
The train of thought no stronger!
The unblog reeks of staleness!
Albinos: freaks of paleness! 

Suppose for once you had your way
And all you had to do was say,
"I'd like the mountains over there;
I'd like my health and thicker hair."

That is, suppose the Lord would make
Exceptions for his children's sake,
And you could walk the world unfazed
By all the ruckus Adam raised.

Suppose, in fact, that you could ask
To be exempt from any task
That stank of earthly sweat and toil,
From pulling weeds and tilling soil.

Suppose your every prayer were met
With everything you hoped to get,
That problems others struggle through
Were all resolved ahead of you.

Suppose your every last offense
Were void of earthly consequence--
That nothing ever aged or scarred,
Because you held the "sorry" card.

I wonder, then, what good you'd be,
So footloose and so fancy free
To walk a world you couldn't feel,
Whose pain, in spite of you, is real.