I’ve never like poetry
It’s too long and boring
The concepts too deep
It’s not worth enjoying

It’s all about humans
And how disgusting we are
Comparing us to animals
Who, compared, go far

All about cheating
And someone who lied
I haven’t yet read a piece
Where someone didn’t die

About guns and sharp knives
And frightening spikes
In fact, in one class
I heard someone say, “Yikes!”

About turmoil and tumult
And a broken heart
All sorts of things
That tear us apart

So why am I writing
Something I hate?
Was it something you did?
Was it something I ate?

Was it a flash of insight
Or all about a lie?
Was it due to the lady
Who cried, “Fie lord, fie?”

No, in fact
It’s none of these things
I just love the joy
That poetry really brings