Poetry Schmoetry I can’t do that.
Thoughts and feelings, and girly-assed crap.
The stuff that’s inside – it has to stay there;
Else people will judge me, people will stare.
Oh damn my slow typing, when I started this rant
I had a good thought, I had my own slant.
By the time I can type it it’s gone like a breath
And all that I’m left with is waiting for death.
Oh my, that took a rather dark turn. Perhaps we won’t do THAT again.
Written as part of the April 2015 A to Z Challenge.