Rebirth... Technically.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder,
Like when your girl is kidnapped by the HateMonger,
Actions speak louder than words,
We can talk, those that fly are birds,
All good things must come to an end,
Like when Osho chappals were a trend,
A picture is worth a thousand words,
But to us poets that saying is blurred,
A watched pot never boils,
Like a watched seed in the soil,
Beggars can’t be choosers,
So not much hope for losers,
Better late than never,
Is a saying so you won't take forever,
Birds of a feather flock together,
Like two crows that are tethered,
Cleanliness is next to godliness,
Like deafness is second to blindness,
Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,
A dog who loves you wouldn't too,
Don't count your chickens before they hatch,
Dropping the ball before you've caught the catch.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Like a pretty girl when she is older,
Absence makes the heart grow fonder,
Damn I said that already, poem has rebirthed, so I won't go on any longer.