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






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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