I’m such a bad poet, don’t tell me I’m not,
Metaphors hate me, my brain’s in a box!
I can’t trust my words to show rhythm of thought,
My ideas are slow, they need pull from an ox.
I live without logic, I live in great pain,
My brain doesn’t think, my brain doesn’t work,
My thoughts don’t make sense and it drives me insane,
My golden ideas are stuck in deep murk.
My grammar’s a mess, it’s strewn all about,
My stanzas are poor and the structure is off,
My verses confuse me, they leave me in doubt,
If you can’t understand this, at me you will scoff.
I can’t write a poem, can’t do it at all,
I think I might leave it to those who are smart,
The mistakes I am making are bigger than small,
And try as I may, I won’t master this art.
The formats are rigid, and so are the rules,
I don’t like to read them, I loathe them a lot,
The rules I am breaking are rules I should use,
I’m such a bad poet, don’t tell me I’m not.