So, one poem seems to run into the next, or so they say
I’ll be having that one, hip-hip hooray!
Too many words to count, more often than not I getting the nauseating feeling that they really are amounting to nothing
Then, before I know it, we’re flying, we’re strutting our stuff
Tough luck, tough titties if you don’t quite get it this time
How about lending me your ear for a while, awaiting the next sentence, the next extraordinarily enticing line?
No doubt in my mind it’ll be quite exciting
Perhaps only then will you sincerely begin to smile
A mile of poetry with no real knowledge as to which way it is going to go
Reading, arduously studying the likes of Edgar Allen Poe, attempting to get something of a strangehold
To become a legendary writer, you really do need to be painstakingly, unwittingly bold
Maybe that’s why most grandmasters are only ever famous once they turn old
Finally learning, managing to unfold life’s every shameful story

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