I sit here on my couch and ponder why,
Free verse flows from my brain so easily.
But even though no matter how I try,
A rhyme is still a mystery to me.
Into five feet my thoughts will not condense.
I can't pick words that seem to fit the length.
Things don't line up the way they should and hence,
I have to say that form is not my strength.
My life and poetry, they seem the same-
Convention not the style I do the best.
And while at times I wish the flow just came,
I recognize that I'm not like the rest.
So rhyme and form I'll use to match the mold,
But I'LL know that inside I'm free verse bold.
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