My Poetry IsWitty, charming, shallow, and bold childish, and infantile, so I am told. Bland, repugnant, with little insight concise, cohesive, and cuts like a knife. Rigid, repetitive, dull and bland sorry about those, but I am, what I am. Simple, complicated, arguementative, and insane creatively shrewd, and often quite vain. Sweet, sour, stuffy, and absurd dogmatic, prismatic, and other big words. Fresh, stale, and as natural as the dew wonderfully great, with many a poor review. Precise, sloppy, and overflowing with hope so melancholy, morbid, that I can hardly cope. Likable, hateable, forgetable but true and why I do this, I haven’t a clue. For I often wonder, where I went wrong and if it’s worth the paper, it’s printed on.
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