Foux

Why am I writing... What am I fighting... Why does it hurt... I feel like dirt... Why must I rhyme... All of the time... Just to express... All of my stress... Poetry can feel... And it can be real... Without rhyming... Or perfect timing... But whenever I write... ... with all my might... I can't stop the words... From rhyming; absurd... I will just shut up... I should just give up... Rhyming my diction... Causing this friction... This poem is done... And rhyming was fun... But now I have ended it... As I intended it...