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The Curse of Rhyme (Poem)


Despite the indisputable truth that silly, right here’s a first-rate poem. When I started dabbling in poetry, it used to be a relaxing facet-hobby which served as a inventive outlet. Like a flash, though, it grew to become my every belief proper into a rhyme. Ogle out! Poetry is serious stuff…

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I allege it’s a gift, in relate to rhyme 

However to be rather frank, it feels extra esteem a vine 

That tightens its grip with every unique line 

And grows stronger with the progression of time

Even in my sleep, when I accept as true with I’m on my own 

I’ll accept as true with some real vision, I’ll raise up a phone

Then seek, on the completely different halt, any individual will talk 

And upon hearing them, my knees will develop worn 

For internal the speech that I hear in my head 

There’s a rhyme of some kind that fills me with awe 

For I know it’s a virus without an rush 

The rhymes accept as true with strangled my thoughts esteem a snake 

Even my dreams, where I must nonetheless be in flight 

Own been suffused with this dreadful blight 

The gift of the poet is the curse of rhyme 

It works its formulation in esteem poisonous slime 

So scrutinize out, and halt reading, or you’ll halt up esteem me 

Drowned in a meaningless doggerel sea

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