Push, click
And the ink is exposed to the paper
I am a poet, disguised as a faker
My lies and deceit have made the ink run
Words are dripping down, great, I just spilled my ***
Push, click
So the ink will not dry during clean up
I never get the wishes that I dream up
That's why my *** has been spilled
And the room's yet to tilt
My mind is a quilt with the seams cut
Push, click
Write.
Pen, paper
Alleviate, redeem, numb
Please someone get me more ***
Now.
Push, click
And **** a cinquain
I'm sick of this **** I'm done playing games
Always a ***** seems I only complain
Enough of these thoughts, they're always the same
I'll weather the weather, meditate in the rain
Push, click