Oh Poetry, the grief you cause me,
The long, countless hours spent trying to compose you.
Do I rhyme my words? Or use alliteration, aligning words from the alphabet to form phrases?
Shall I write about my pain and sorrow, my happiness or my newfound love?
The questions to ask so as to write good poetry, well… kind of.
Damn Poetry, and your condescending ways,
Telling us things that mean one thing, and others that make no sense.
Some poems speak of epic heroes, others of fantastical realms.
And then, there are those that allude to bizarre things, and creepy places.
Though mostly poems are written to get into other’s good graces.
Oh my, sometimes you are ridiculous.
Acting so pretentious while writing about things that no one truly cares about.
Yes, romantics, I’m looking at you.
At least tell a story, something interesting, though not in a complicated way.
But don’t listen to me, for I have nothing intelligent to say.
Damn Poetry, sitting here, trying to write you is hard,
I can’t think of anything to say, let alone write.
So I’ll sit here and bitch about not being able to form a poem,
Instead of actually sitting down, and put intelligent thoughts to paper,
And who knows, maybe I could compose something beautiful and well thought
But for now, I think I’d better not.