Sometimes I write shitty poetry,
and throw out words from the top of my head.
Sometimes they rhyme like a children’s book
and sometimes they don’t, they just end.
I try to invoke a feeling
but then I’ll lose it half way through.
Reading it back I cringe at its sound
and I don’t know what to do.
I reach for the feelings to finish.
I force the round into a square.
Why did I even start this?
It’s something that I’ll never share.
Shitty poetry happens,
it’s real but at least it’s free,
as the drunken poet cursed through god;
too many poets, not enough poetry.