For as long as I remember, I've made poems to rhyme
They were a restriction, as well as a direction
To lead me on the lyrical path and make me learn
And it did lead me to a point, that of no return.

I've realized they've become chains
A habit to beat, a skill honed well
Too heavy to cast away, too useful to break
Here I thought it was the icing on the cake

A-A-B-B, A-B-A-B
Nothing rhymes, I'll add another word, maybe
Restructure my sentences, into pieces they fractured
From fractured pieces, my sentences restructured

I could be more, and my works can also be
More than what they sound at the end
I just have to be aware that there's a time to rhyme
And there's a time to make a poem