Poetry is a form of literature
Formed with lines and paragraphs
They say smugly
I know poetry

They call poetry an art
Like a monotonous audio,
repetition of every alliteration.
Born to repeat.

PersonificationMetaphorsDiction
They spout nonsensical meanings.
Because they know
Oh, so much about poetry
Like the poet next door does.

The words stick like glue
metres and “hidden meanings” tremble at their view.
as they view the prosed poem with confusing clarity
A concessive concussion forming in their heads

With the sesquipedalian nature of things they endure the
lies they spell with their eyes
as their mouth talks the cryptic truth

With a read of this poem
They look at the last stanza and think
In their muddled heads with a slight smirk
“It breaks the fourth wall. Nice poem.”