Break a rhyme

Of lines 

my own designs 

Fight me

What I can see 

Too hard 

I keep my card 

Closed chest 

What said it best

I know 

But doesn't show 

I heard 

Rumours in words

I wrote 

And gave them note 

I lied

Truth was implied 

I hid 

Oh One last bid 

To say 

In words I lay 

Bound by

The tight rules I always  fuck up.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

When the rules are too restrictive the poetry can suck just like in the real world.

View ssmoothie's Full Portfolio
Pungus's picture

Quick Kicks

There is a hard truth and alluring personality to your poems.


bananas are the perfect food

for prostitues