Untitled Document

The ‘B’ Factor

‘B’ factor is purgatory spelt with a ‘B’
And it always makes a monkey of me.
If thrown away I need it the next day
And I do mean the next day, no delay.

The next day will starts with the sun
Sometimes, yes, the ‘B’ factor is fun.
Thing I find bring memories to mind
Of sunny days when people were kind.

There is a limit to what one can hoard
There is no room left in the cupboard
Boxes are stacks from ceiling to floor
Can’t move for junk or open the door.

Should I burn it or throw it in the bin
It’s a situation that one can never win.
Whenever I clear up I regret the day
Have I got a this or that they will say.

When for me wooden overcoat they measure
What will they find, ‘B’ Factor or treasure.
‘B’ factor is ‘buggation’ spelt with a ‘P’
And it always makes a monkey of me.

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