Hi, this is going to be boring for everybody, sorry. I have been trying to write something quite good for what seems like an age now and all that comes is not good at all! Therefore, it is with a sense of frustation and with the knowledge that this kind of thing is deeply boring and uninteresting to anyone but the author, that I post this thing.
My pathetic attempts at poetry distress me
To a degree that cannot be
Quite healthy.
To align this list of symbols in such a way
As to make people
Believe I have a fine soul
Is no noble goal
But a selfish direction of wasted thought.
Isn’t it quite perverse
to pursue my faults and failures
In yet more verse?
Right I'm done, and feel a little better. Perhaps one day i'll resign myself to the fact that i'll never write like Keats...one day!