Confession [#5]

I could write so many words
Some even with meaning
Others for filler
Still more for rhyming
Meandering rows
of line
broken
prose
That appear as poetry
All for vanity
All for vanity

Still, I know
These words only invite
A scrolling like
Or glad-hand job
For a return in kind
Forgotten for the time
Until I design
More rambling rows
I suppose be poetry
Waiting
for the moment
The screen flashes
“One new like”

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4 thoughts on “Confession [#5]

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