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The Curse of Rhyme (Poem)

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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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