Poem 21- Letter to my Porm, prom, Powm, poem

Dear Poems,


You lied to me

You swore this would be easy

That you would be here

In my darkest hours

That I would find solace in your simple rhythm

Your joyful rhyme

Your melodious metaphor

your stunning simile

But after 21 hours

you are like the lover

That will not leave

You want breakfast and cuddles

You want my full attention

For me it is just word porn now

You toy with me

I indulge you

But I get nothing in return

My back aches, my head pounds

Yet still you demand

I can barely think

But you want more, much much more

You want all of me

Until my brain shrivels

And my fingers flail about

You own me

You miserable miser of misery


It will do you good they said

And now I stand on the streetcorner

begging the muses for a morsel

Anything to get me through


Keep it away from your children

And your grandmother

It will do you no good

In the dead of night

When your eyes want to close

And turn it to prose

But the poem, just badgers

And commands

A demanding lover til the bitter caustic end

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