Can't write a poem
Though a poem is my home
It's the place where I roam

If I can make things rhyme
In time in time in time
Too many syllables ****
****.
Can't think of much to rhyme with **** so
Lamb Lamb Lamb

Or I could be romantic
A rose knows how to tie bows
So it curls its toes and wrinkles its nose
Prose Prose Prose

Unfortunately, I am just me
An incomplete, awkward poem-to-be
But I persist and jot my lines
To a world where I am **undefined.