PTG: I don't often do poetry, and when I do, it tends to be NOT DEPRESSING. So all people who are clinically depressed and do not wish to be cheered up, this is not the poem for you.

Yeah, also, I have never seen one of these people (see below), I've just heard about them. With no further ado, on to my famous Crazy Old Man poem!

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The Crazy Old Man

Side of the street,

That's where he sits,

Looking around and

Shaking his fists.

"Can you not see

That the world's going to end?"

He'd shout it quite loud,

But never a friend.

People don't heed his

wild-eyed stare.

It's obvious he's

not all there.

A strange old top hat

Rolled off of his head.

I picked it up, handed

It back to him, said,

"Here is your hat, sir,"

But the old man was ticked.

"It'll all blow up soon,

Very soon, I predict."

He wandered off muttering,

Shaking his head.

Then turned back and shouted

"Hey! My name's Fred!"

Side of the street,

That's where he sat,

Before cops took him away,

Him and his hat.