Don’t tell anyone what you know
Keep your favorite person you
You have such a way to go
No one else will see you through
Pound the keyboard
Cliché thoughts
Still unsure
I know I have something to say
But my thoughts get in the way
If I could be a maddened poet
Drunk with indifference for the structured world
I write all day
And have my way
They’d publish books of me someday
Eccentric clothes
Secret woes
In the throws
Doors closed
But I’m so fair and pretty and free
Dull as rain on city streets

Yet a poet’s eye sees rain like magic
Every time, feels something tragic
So poets all, look at me
And feel my poet reach to thee.

The End

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