The Scribbles are having the cribbles

Nonsensical cribbing

The Scribbles are not stopping

Nonstop mopping

Gossips are the toppings

Of this now daily fare

The dribbles do not care

But the writer is scared

His secrets bared

With all this cribbling

The naughty scribbling by the Scribbles

Is a scandal in the making.

The writer does the unthinkable

Folds the paper into a crinkle

Too many crinkles

The Scribbles are now hushed

The writer is depressed

Worried about the bad press

In the folds his secrets unfold.

In the dark the Scribbles stand quietly

Pondering the status quo

Wondering their next move

In the grooves of the paper

They plan their next caper.