Crank

For under sun, I e’er shrank
As fungus plucked from dark and dank
And, oh, with sorrow, worries sank
For drive I not a tank

But ‘lo am I of lesser lank
And pitched as those with sharpened shank
Whose wrists are jeweled of iron clank
For chose to rob a bank

Aloft, am I, as Schrader, Hank
For drugs are bad, M’kay, and thanks
So by thy merit made me blank
And now to walk the plank

For here, you see, with verbal swank
You’ve got a chain just made to yank
And not all words need depth or rank
To firmly turn your crank


this is what happens when I don’t know what to do with a daily prompt but feel compelled to write one anyway

you’re welcome…

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