Where is everyone who knows what their doing
People who actual ponder the words their spewing
Who don't just falsify the metaphors around
And do more then fancifully describe absence of sound
Sure there may be no rules to this game you play
But still you do no good fiddling  in the grey
Sure it has a charming tone
That doesn't mean you have a single artistic bone
There's no formulated thought
Just basic patterns bought
Through the books you heard others sot
By authors who only gained value once they began to rot
So continue to spill your soul to those
Who's poetry lacks everything including a sense of prose