This is a poem
No it is not.
Roses a red –
no the aren't.
They're scarlet.
Violets are blue –
No, they're not.
They're actually violet.
Poems are supposed
to create an image
that the reader can
tangibly relate to.
Golden tears like –
stop it. Remember
that this isn't
a poem.
It's not.
The Sun isn't red
like my passion.
Nor is the
Moon white like
my "pure" sympathy.
I already told
you that this
isn't a poem.
Don't you get it?
Stop reading this.
Just because
the writing
changed in
structure
does not
mean that
this is a bona-fide poem. I take things and
I like to throw 'em. When
I am writing poems like I am
not
right now. I always write
like this. It's just a habit of
mine.
I did not just do a slant rhyme.
I have a thigh.
DARN IT!
ARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
That wasn't just
onomateopoeia.
Did I mention that
this wasn't a poem?
I like not writing poems.
It's like blowing out candles
on a birthday cake.
Or sipping your first soda.
It feels
so great not
writing a poem like this.
Oh man.
So good.
I'm done
with this
pointless non-
poem.
It's over.
Hah.
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