Poetry is flawed
It never has any bars,
When they write a bunch of songs,
They forget to make it wrong,
The heart of poetry,
Was left with minorities,
And now all that remains,
Are people from Spain,
Who try to disdain,
The meaning of these rhymes
While never taking any time,
To ask the writer himself.
Why does poetry matter?
Some say as chatter,
What they fail to realize
Is that I make a pretty dime,
Money runs the world,
And so I twirl.
You may call me greedy,
But I am speedy,
While you try to win this spot
I am typing like it’s hot!
It never has any bars,
When they write a bunch of songs,
They forget to make it wrong,
The heart of poetry,
Was left with minorities,
And now all that remains,
Are people from Spain,
Who try to disdain,
The meaning of these rhymes
While never taking any time,
To ask the writer himself.
Why does poetry matter?
Some say as chatter,
What they fail to realize
Is that I make a pretty dime,
Money runs the world,
And so I twirl.
You may call me greedy,
But I am speedy,
While you try to win this spot
I am typing like it’s hot!