Dawn has always had more gangles than curves,
And never, not ever, gets what she deserves.
This far from home she is just an outcast
Staring in awe at this country so vast.
Dyed hair and short nails but not yet too old
To be approached in a bar by those who are bold.
Scary she may be and fierce in her tone
And worried that she may end up alone.
Alone! she did cry! Alone! An old bat!
(and, one may deduce,
With a horde of wild cats
and a stack of Doc Seuss!)
With no sense for the rhyme she continues her quest
Of telling this audience about her good self
But who is out there that doesn’t know her?
For she has only told a few, as it were.
Of this location hidden away on the internet
So she has no editors and need not really fret
That people will laugh and mock and disdain
These few random ditties she needs not explain
