Rhyming Makes People Look At You Funny

Rhyming makes people

Uncomfortable, you see

Sure seems that way,

To me.

Gives it away as poetry,

Maybe?

Makes people quick

To retreat so that they can

Go back to pretending

The world doesn’t

Play music for free

A beat to dance to

If they let themselves

Hear, they’ll

Want to stop working

If they let themselves dance

They’re admitting they were

Shuffling, before.

If they let themselves dance

They might start to sing

And if they start to sing

They might start melting

Melting their cold cunt hearts

Turning their icy exteriors

To ponds in spring

They might start to

Feel joy uninhibited

And what, oh god

What then if they

Start to pretend

They could be happy again

I wonder if people

Hate rhyming because it feels

Performed, insincere

Or if they hate rhyming

The way they hate humming,

Tapping, singing and laughing

The way they hate things

That reminded them of

The way they were before

The way they were before the world broke them

I wonder if rhyming seems childish,

To them.

What painful memories, lilt must bring

I suppose I shouldn’t be

rhyme-shaming

Alas, it’s the only way

I’m able to communicate

I am lost, a hapless

Hopeless musician gone

Poet gone philosopher gone

Tomato salesman

I wonder if I’ll find a proper

Rhyming partner, or if I will always

Be jiving to the beat of

My own rhythm, a man

With my own room. Virginia,

I hope climate change is kind to you

The rhyming is coming

I bet it bothers

Conservatives more

Than the glaciers melting

It certainly used to make me

Sick to my own stomach

Now, I write it all down,

Proof of my madness

My friendly metronome

A friend that always calls me

When I feel lonesome


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