Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Poetry

Words do not make sense like they used to,
They no longer rhyme as they flow from my fingers,
The meter is off and bland,
And sometimes a sentence lingers.
I think my poetry started breaking when my mind did,
How can writing be rational when the brain is not?
I write erratically and dangerously,
And I'm no longer sure when to stop.

*Evyn

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