This is ORIGINAL poetry material.
What?
You've seen this before?
That's a lie,
this
is
Original Poetry,
no clichés; no repetition...
no suicidal talk
no love chat.
"No!" as I said, no clichés.
My pen is blue and I want to kill
You.
Because my Id is talking over my ego.
I realise things others don't.
What is wrong with me?
Where does this poem belong?
Love?
Life?
NSFW?
Or is it
just rumble?
The above is a fragment for consideration underlined green!
Press F7, look at the advice.
Stupid mind!
No love talk...
Ignore myself?
I think it's hard.
This isn't poetry?
But now... what if it is?
Am I talking to myself now?
I've gone to the
wrong page.
~Just finished work~
this
is
getting too long...
As I said
"No repetition"
"No clichés"
Original poetry...
2:15 AM,
recording "number 6",
what on
earth
am I doing?
I'm whispering into my phone!
Masturbation-realization...
Random sentences.
I need to
write down
my thoughts
in a poem.
"Oh damn"
I am writing them down
~Insert a scream here~
No... no clichés, no repetition,
repetition, repetition,
Clichés?
10 days of heaven,
I just woke up!
I'm still writing
this down,
is there an end?
No clichés; randomization; originality;
The end!
Gif by George Redhawk
