In Between Rests

i hate it when i hold things back
it kinda makes me feel like a hack
you know, the politician type
which does all the necessary hype

not to know when to say
words that would confirm some dismay
hey, i can't go on with this charade
or else ill turn into a fermented ade

arrrrgh, i got to stop
or else my head would go plop
i really have to go,
there is something i need to mow

Back Main Next

Questions or thoughts about this poem? Express them here.

Note: You will need to sign up for the discussion area.