Visage of an angel,
Just a mirage,
Lies from a stranger,
All a facade.
A halo, of play-doh,
Wings made of clay, no
One would ever guess this fallen angel's far from faithful.

Misplaced punctuation
I don't know where to stop.
Commas run awry
Jumbled up word slop.
I can't find the middle
I can't find the end
There is no flow to your sour words
The sentences don't blend.
I can take your spelling and grammar
Leaving me just a bit confused
But I can't stand your punctuation
Finding commas you should've used.
You're a book that I can't read
You don't make any sense.
The endless run on sentences
And the constant shift in tense.
Your words change their minds
As you do the same.
But it's not the words' fault.
The writer's to blame.