In retrospective
Analysis, words are borne
To the bane of self. There
Upon a dead shelf adorned,
The poetry throttles forth.
Author's Notes/Comments:
If you'll notice, the third line has one syllable too many but I couldn't do away with the way it came out, despite giving it a few quick considerations. I finally decided to compromise the syllabics by acknowledgement of my fault.
It works for me. The
It works for me. The substance shined through your slight, confident alteration in structure, and I saw only brilliance. The word "throttles" is a powerhouse that really makes this. You never fail to impress me.
You carry so much love
You carry so much love.. thank you
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes