Who cares about rhythm and rhyme
If it sounds good then how does it matter
But no, critics shall make a batter
Out of every horse that doesn't canter
In this age of hypocrisy
The head always feels dizzy
Where everyone is busy
And yet they are free and fizzy
You who read this poem
Know that thou have been blessed by thee
That thy power is with me
And with you, and all those who breathe
But in the end, it will be lost
among the sands of time and death
With no one to profit the most
Except the great grim reaper of frost
YOU ARE READING
Random poems
PoetrySong-like poems made mainly for the fun rhyming effect than anything else. No deep meanings, no complicated and flowery language; just good-old random poems.
