I know I'm not poetic,
Just typing what jumps out to me.
Its not prophetic,
Its easy you see.

People say its hard to write,
Rhyming all the time.
I defeat that, with a fight,
All you need is to Rhyme.

I'm messed up,
Mix-matched too.
But its not anything like the flu,
Its just me, and thats true.

This is just a poem,
Making the truth shown.
Beautiful and solem,
No need for post-pone.

In the cascading shadows of the moon,
I'll be there holding your hand.
Whether it be morning or noon,
I'll be there for you, My friend.