Failing at poetry

Tired, is the feeling with which I’m always stuck

Dizzy, is my head right now, as the room spins round and round

On edge, is my state of being, not being able to not give a


Sorry, is what I say all too often, when I shout and get angry

And the room spins around

And around

And around.


I cannot write a competent rhyme

And this is not a matter of time

It’s more of an issue with talent and wit

‘Cause I’m not good with writing

This is honestly shit.

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