Syntax builds the fragile frame,
A structure bound by rules and name.
Each line, each mar, a puzzle piece,
The form that brings our thoughts release.

Semantics, though, is where it lives,
The meaning that the order gives.
A word alone, a line of code,
Means nothing till its truth is showed.

Syntax lays the path we tread,
The map of where our thoughts are lead.
But meaning waits beneath the lines,
In symbols, shapes, and quiet signs.

Without the rules, we’d lose our way.
But without meaning, there’s no say.
So  syntax shapes, semantics breathes,
Together, language weaves and weaves.

The sky was pinkle when I woke,
A shade of laughter, half a joke.
The clouds turned sorn, a moody hue,
Like whispers drenched in morning dew.

I dress in plasmic, soft and shy,
A color caught between a sigh.
My shoes were tied with strings of frave,
The color brave, that I crave.

The streets were wet, a glistening feel,
Like promises too sharp, too real.
I stepped through puddles, blur and glant,
With hues that speak, but never chant.

The trees were spindle, tall and thin,
Their leaves were painted grun and kin.
The world spun round in shades unknown,
Colors that feel, but never shown.

By evening, selk began to fall,
A hue that echoes with no call.
And as the night wore shades of flow,
I drifted where the colors go.

Oh, a liewish, a lieiwsh
a twisty-truth skewish-
a tale spun so wild,
it hopes to be true-ish.

It starts as a whisper,
soft as a sigh,
a fib with its fingers
crossed up to the sky.

“I’ve danced on the moon!”
or “I never feel blue!”
a liewish floats up
like a daydream’s debut

It’s a word in disguise,
a bluff in plain view,
a hope draped in make-believe,
sly as it grew.

Some say it’s a fib,
some say it’s unwise,
but a liewish just grins
and pretends it’s a prize

For what is a dream
if not wishes that lie?
so here’s to the liewish,
that dares and defies.

She penned her heart on paper, soft words like a song,
Each line dripped with feeling, where love could belong.
With careful strokes, she crafted her truth,
Dreaming of his smile, the joy of their youth.

Her heart spilled like ink, hopes dancing on the page,
In the warmth of the sun, she felt love’s sweet wage.
She folded it gently, tied with a thread,
Imagining the moment when he’d read what she said.

But noon’s light grew harsh, as shadows fell long,
He strolled in with laughter, his spirit so strong.
With a chuckle, he set down his cold can of beer,
And in one careless motion, her eyes filled with tears.

The paper, once tender, now pressed 'neath the weight,
Of a sweating beer can, her heart met its fate.
As droplets cascaded, her words turned to blur,
The promises faded, lost in the stir.

She watched from the settee, her smile turned to stone,
Her heart in the balance, her feelings alone.
In a moment of silence, she felt the sharp sting,
Of love unacknowledged, the pain it could bring.

A touch should be gentle, like whispers in the night,
But your words hit like storms, with no end in sight.
Each glance, a shove, though I never saw the hand,
Unnecessary roughness—what love could withstand?

The rules we once honored, now broken like glass,
Promises shattered as kindness slipped past.
It’s not just the anger, but the weight in the air,
The silence that lingers, pretending you care.

What was once soft has now grown so cold,
A heart left bruised from the grip you hold.
Unnecessary roughness in every embrace,
I flinch from the love that’s lost its grace.

Where warmth once flourished, now jagged and frayed,
A love meant to lift, but instead, it decayed.
And though I still stand, my heart shows the scars,
Unnecessary roughness has torn us apart.

In a quiet bowl, a tale began,
Of a fish with tricks that fooled each man.
A beta fish with colors bold,
But Liarfish, as he’d be told.

He’d float belly-up, still as stone,
As if his soul had swiftly flown.
Panicked eyes would widen, stare—
“Is Liarfish no longer there?”

But with a sudden, secret glee,
He’d flick his fins and swim carefree.
Laughing bubbles on his way,
Another prank to start the day.

“Oh, Liarfish!” the people cried,
“You got us good—oh, how you lied!”
And so his name began to grow,
A symbol of a tricky show.

From village streets to busy towns,
His tale spread far, it gained renown.
And when someone would stretch the truth,
Liarfish’s name would slip out smooth.

“Caught in a lie!” the people say,
“That’s Liarfish at work today!”
A wink, a grin, a knowing smile—
They’d call out tricks from many a mile.

Now Liarfish is legend, grand,
A playful prank passed hand to hand.
His name still floats on whispered lips,
When truth and lies make clever flips.

So if you hear a tale askew,
Remember Liarfish, swift and true—
For in his playful, tricky art,
He’s the master of a lying heart.

Please forgive my attitude
And if it seems I'm being rude
All my actions get misconstrued
I guess it's me and never you