I struggle with themes and verses
rhymes in the minds
and so with the tenses
To say whatever it is I mean
or mean whichever it is I say
so for all that is said
were all that is meant
with my rhyme in time
my heart on my sleeve
and my poetry in motion
For what good is the hyperbole
when now we are parted by a higher wall
and a simile is not worth a smile
when all you could say is
it's tough to put a title on that one
Those hanging verses
keep a secret
that each i seek to keep in harmony
with only a touch of inspired insanity
to set the pen into action
The words you dedicate
are words we can't remember
you with your games
and I with my pains
my dreams, my shame,
they all were a distant world away
if only a poem like this
were music to play
on lyrical lies that once made us
make believe.
I hate love poems.
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