Poems are meant to be clever and rhyme
They are supposed to be deconstructed and analysed
Well not mine

Do you
Think
With some random Capital Letters and some really
Strange
Sentences, I can fool
Them

Perhaps I could grow my hair long and become
A performance poet
That would be cool

I’ll pick up an accent and put ALL the Emp hASISis
In all the wrong
Places

I can wear dungarees and swear all the time
And be melodramatic

I can smoke roll-ups, drink pints
And pretend to be A People’s Poet

Well maybe not
My muse is a bit too twisted for that

So what does rhyme with PTSD
Oh that’s right I know ME

Blimey I’ve said it, I’m not right in the head
That’s what they’ll think now

Those of us who own demons know that’s not true
A normal reaction to an abnormal situation
Is what I’ve heard said
Doesn’t stop me feeling a bit strange in my head