Are you a poet?

No, not even a wordsmith.

To become a master of the arts

requires finesse and a knack

for telling right things

at the right moments

I spectacularly fail at both

I am just a sloth

muddling through life

like its nobody’s business

what I hide inside

and chose to parade.

My rhymes

disturb and invade

and haunts my unrealised dreams

Thus I vomit them

and they land in ugly, dis-formed heaps

on whatever surface

in whatever order

I see fit.


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