Poetry

So, here's the thing
With poetry
It no longer means that much to me.

Or is that the way
I want it to be?

I know it means less to you
You made it clear
I understood

You read

You read

You turned away

You read

And turned away

Life goes on

Fuck we're all so busy.

So fucking busy

Too busy to care

Oh, that doesn't rhyme

I'm supposed to rhyme

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

It started so well

Turned to hell

(Fuck yes, I can rhyme. Any time. So fine. On time. Be mine. Bitch... It rhymes)



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