My 8th-grader banged out this poem in about 15 minutes. It’s probably the best thing you will read today.
My fake hand feels plastical
“But how’d you lose it?” you might wonder.
It’s story time, kids, and I’m bringing the thunder.
See, saving the galaxy’s my number one task
I fly between planets with an oxygen mask
Got in a fight with my evil jerk father
He cut off my hand, a five digit slaughter
“Rule the galaxy, as Father and Son!”
But my hand was gone so I felt done
I let go of that tiny iron pole
And fell like a rock through a high-up hole
Luckily my friend Lando caught me
Deciding to save me though before he fought me
We flew away in my homie’s ship
This was a really bogus trip
Then we went and chilled in a rebel blockade
That’s where my fake hand was made
So now you know why my hand feels dumb
But still, my story isn’t done
My homie Han got frozen stiff
And was almost thrown in a Sarlac Pit
But death never came that day
Main characters always find a way!
Away we flew at hyper speed
Freed at last from Jabba’s greed
Then we lead a final assault
The second death star had one tiny fault
We drove an entire ship inside
Launched some missles, “Open wide!”
The Death Star was reduced to pieces
Imperial plan had gone to feces
We landed, then, to celebrate
Stormtrooper meat is what we ate
Now you see why we are pros
Saving planets with my bros.