a what?

this is a poem.

It can be perfectly structured 

in iambic pentameter

with perfect rhythm and rhyme,

or completely without a sense of time.

Arbitrarily Personifying objects.

Rich with the beautiful imagery of black words

on a typed page,

like a simile's delicate comparison 

or a brave metaphor.

This is a lion.

It can have absolutely no punctuation with lines that run on and on forever or end

Abruptly. 

With.

Only.

One.

Word.

Insert an allusion to an old form of literature here

only a University professor would understand.

Commas, pauses, breath,

read it aloud.

This is art.

Give it life.

Take a piece of it, devour it, or spit it out

and trample upon it.

This is a poem.

It does not require you to love it

or loathe it

or be motivated by it.

Only to read it.

You read it, now,

you are changed.

The End

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