Sometimes I can't help myself. I like to poke the bear. I like to rustle feathers, and today I thought up a poem to do just that. It's a poem about a boy named Billy who wished his willy away. I hope you enjoy it, and it is what it is ...
Billy Has No Willy
In the quiet town of Dullsville, where the clocks all tick too slow,
Lived a lanky lad named Billy, with a teenage heart of woe.
He was sixteen, full of pimples, and a mind that loved to roam,
But his privates, oh, they plagued him, like a gnome who’d built a home.
Lived a lanky lad named Billy, with a teenage heart of woe.
He was sixteen, full of pimples, and a mind that loved to roam,
But his privates, oh, they plagued him, like a gnome who’d built a home.
One night, ‘neath a starry tantrum, Billy cursed his boyish fate,
“I wish this wretched willy gone!” he screamed, with angst and hate.
The stars, they winked, malicious, and a cosmic breeze did blow,
By morning, Billy’s trousers lacked their usual morning show.
“I wish this wretched willy gone!” he screamed, with angst and hate.
The stars, they winked, malicious, and a cosmic breeze did blow,
By morning, Billy’s trousers lacked their usual morning show.
He woke to find a smoother patch, where once his pride did stand,
No willy waved its morning flag, just… flat and foreign land.
But lo, the mirror showed him more—a chest that softly curved,
His hips had bloomed, his voice had pitched, his body now unnerved.
No willy waved its morning flag, just… flat and foreign land.
But lo, the mirror showed him more—a chest that softly curved,
His hips had bloomed, his voice had pitched, his body now unnerved.
“Oh, bloody hell,” said Billy, now with hair that touched the floor,
“I’m not just willy-less, I’m… girly!” as he stumbled ‘cross the door.
His mates, they howled with laughter, at the lass who once was Bill,
“Oi, mate, you’ve gone and swapped your bits for frills and daffodil!”
“I’m not just willy-less, I’m… girly!” as he stumbled ‘cross the door.
His mates, they howled with laughter, at the lass who once was Bill,
“Oi, mate, you’ve gone and swapped your bits for frills and daffodil!”
The school was merciless, of course, with whispers sharp as knives,
“Billy’s now a Belinda!” they jeered, wrecking teenage lives.
Yet Billy, with a twisted grin, began to see the jest,
“If I’m to be a lady, lads, I’ll be the bloody best.”
“Billy’s now a Belinda!” they jeered, wrecking teenage lives.
Yet Billy, with a twisted grin, began to see the jest,
“If I’m to be a lady, lads, I’ll be the bloody best.”
He strutted in his new-found form, with sass and wicked glee,
Outsmarted jocks, outcharmed the girls, rewrote his destiny.
But late at night, he’d sigh and muse, “This wish was quite the trick,
I miss my willy, just a tad… but damn, I rock this chick.”
Outsmarted jocks, outcharmed the girls, rewrote his destiny.
But late at night, he’d sigh and muse, “This wish was quite the trick,
I miss my willy, just a tad… but damn, I rock this chick.”
So here’s to Billy, or Belinda, who flipped the script with flair,
A darkly comic twist of fate, a body swapped mid-prayer.
Be careful what you wish, my friends, when stars are feeling silly,
For you might wake, like poor old Bill, with nary a trace of willy.
A darkly comic twist of fate, a body swapped mid-prayer.
Be careful what you wish, my friends, when stars are feeling silly,
For you might wake, like poor old Bill, with nary a trace of willy.
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