The question mark is the punctuation mark that thought it could dance,
Or the exclamation point child that always made funny faces,
It stuck like that;
Making a fool of itself in novel ways,
And keyboard ways,
And very confusing ways indeed
A veritable fool in the faces of such dignified figures
As the terse period and, of course,
The intelligent and neglected
If not a bit indecisive
Perhaps the comma feels a twinge of jealousy
For the question mark stole its curvèd back,
Being the spineless thief that it is;
Taking sureness from our assertions and lies,
Huddling under that curve,
And thenthe nerve!
Shoving the period below it,
Just in case,
Just in case
What it was trying to put in wasnt exactly right.
Because its not quite sure.
Be gone, coward!
You arent the one dangling the carets around here;
I dont need you!
We dont want your kind!
Who do you think you
What are you tryin