humoingat

There's a little boy who walks to school, Nobody knows his name. No matter what he tries to do, It is always the same. He keeps up with all the trends, He knows them inside out. Each one he pulls off perfectly, Even that selfie-photo pout. Each week he brings a box of muffins, Though nobody knows why. He used to try and hand them out, Now he doesn't even try. He shares the muffins with the crows and eats them one by one. For consuming that much sugar, He sure looks miserable when he's done. He looks down at the empty box and you see a little smile. The crows fly off and he lies down; They'll all be full for quite a while.