figuring out rhymes.

Location

I was just a kid you know back in middle school
Never thought poetry or any of that shit would end up being what I do
But it is
Now I’m stuck refreshing Rhymezone.com and trying to figure out
Why the hell not every word can have a rhyming verse
And why the hell some verses never seem to flow
And why the whole damn thing is just a mess to throw

Away my mind went as I wrote the first few words on that notebook page
It was blue—the color of my school, my pen, my shirt, my friend’s eyes
The pen moved
I tried to write a song for a friend about a boy
And another boy, why was I writing about it
It didn’t concern me or anything I had ever lived for
But I did it
And here is how it goes

                “There are two guys in my life
                I’m sick of all their lies”

This shit confused me
I had no idea “life” had so many ways to rhyme

                Strife. Wife. Knife. Stif(le).

I just wrote to write
And that was the game
From then on the notebook and I were best friends
Never one without the other
And the pen was there too

Now who would have thought I would get to where I am today?
Writing poetry not for me, but for my sanity and the memories
They say if a writer falls in love with you, you’re immortal
Yes, fool, you are stuck behind the lines
You are the words that will be read for the next

Five seconds
Five minutes
Five days
Five years
Five centuries

                Maybe more.

Now lemme get a guitar with this
And a friend who can play the guitar
Can't wait til she gets frustrated
I’ve concluded that my rhythm will never, ever line up
But that’s alright, it’s okay; who cares about rhythm anyway?
As long as I’m writing
As long as I’m writing

Look around you, immortal fool
Be inspired to write too
I might not say much about how I feel or what I did or what I do
But I write
I’m a writer too

Grab a pen
Get some paper
Type something
How you feel
How do you do?
Just write something
Maybe I’ll be your fool

I’m a writer too.

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