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Carefully placed commas,

Not necessarily making sense.

Conventional phrases,

There's all that to be said.

Grammar knows me,

But I don't seem to befriend it.

Paragraphs and prose,

It's all a mess.

These binding conventions,

Strangle my words so.

Twisting them from shape,

Into an alien soul.

Now please free me,

I once thought.

Over and over again,

Only nightless dreams came.

Five paragraphs,

No more no less.

A thesis is a must,

Topics nonetheless.

But poetry is free,

As long as,

To me,

It all makes sense.