Some say free verse is too easy,
And in an attempt to help,
Tell me to stop.
But I don't write to follow rules...
It's a break,
An escape from my insane life.
Except that's not really it either.
Maybe I have to have room
To play with,
To think and expand,
Because my feelings are so deep
They can't be couched in iambic tetrameter,
Or even words.
How could I speak in a rhythm
To explain the night I never slept?
Or to describe what I felt in those blissful months,
Vanished long before their time?
It's like that problem
That you think you may have,
But can't find anyone to confide in.
It's okay.... Everything is a secret anyways.
*Right?