I am the *******, and poetry is my ****. slapping me around with its, enriched vocabulary, scarred vowels across my face. A-E-I-O-U, i owe you, 1 minute of sinful poetry. I put a ****** on the mic so I wouldn't pass off my poetic S.T.D. infecting the dictionary. but my grammar was incorrect. after 9 months- OOPS! out comes the alphabet. and when i gave birth to English, you took it from me and created tongue twisters, poetic metaphors that will have you, speechless. and I'm back at point one. I am the *******, and poetry is my ****. scarred vowels across my face. A-E-I-O-U.