How to write a poem?
I ask this question often.
Don't make it too deep
Don't make it too shallow
Engage your reader
New ideas come and go
Chase after them
Or let them flow
Dive into your creativity
End it on a mellow note.

The three wheeled truck sees the fours and asks itself "Why can't I be like that?"
The three wheeled truck has two four wheeled parents, but still only has three wheels.
The three wheeled truck is a bit slower than four and is unable to haul as much.
The three wheeled truck is left to rust.

Laying in bed
Grasping for straws
Ignoring what's said
No care for laws.

This lack of care
Is what put you there
How should I feel
Been stuck with your bill.

But I'll still wait
For the time to come
I know it's fate
For you'll be undone.

If I lie I'll die
Speak the truth and I'll cry
It's eating me inside
But you don't know why.

I can't let you in
But I want you to know
Even though I'm in pain
I'm doing just fine.

I wanted to say I'm back
To make you smile or make you laugh
Reassure you that I'm here to stay
But motivation is what I lack.
May I should spend more time and write a paragraph
Or just wait until some other day.

I can't say for sure that what I write's any good.
But I can say with all my heart, that it's something me.

The devil's with me
He laughs and cries
He tries to trick me
But at least he tries.

The devil's wrong!
Of that I'm sure
But his will's strong
And he looks pure.

The devil's with me
Just lazing all day
Resting and jesting
Tells me, 'Go out n' play!"

The devil's a charmer
Oh wouldn't I know?
Said he wouldn't harm her
Just put on a show.

The devil's with me
Even this moment!
Sadly, you can't see,
But he's just a rodent.

The Devil's a liar
You can trust me on this
You must fight fire with fire
But don't let the shot miss.

Now the Devil's hiding
gone back to his lair.
On borrowed time he's riding...
But soon, his skin I'll wear.

Wanna know what’s wrong?
Well I’ll sing you this song.

Cause I’m already sick
So you can **** a word that rhymes with stick
Why don’t I get to pick
I hate getting the short end of the actual stick

Singing this bit
Makes me feel like… “something similar to dung”
It’s made me exacerbate
I’d rather at home, sit in my chair, and master- geometrics.