Stop rhymingA Poem by Hell in a Hip Flaskwhy do I keep trying to make everything rhyme as if it matters it doesn’t make sense no one chatted to me in rhyme no one thanked me in rhyme and no one abused me in rhyme my life never rhymes it has rhythm, it’s got footsteps beating the road back home, while facebook pings in my pocket, the beep of the card machine and my head thudding on shower walls I got the melody of homeless yells and drunken chants, that fade into warped nights on club rooftops where the melody shifts to conversations I’m not involved in, ‘you’ll never guess who Amy slept with’, then its 2am and Amy’s groans are in the street through unapologizing windows. it’s got that harmony that feel- like when I pick a song that makes people nod and everyone’s drink tastes a bit better or when the bus driver smiles at you and he looks genuinely happy, it’s probably cos he got laid the night before, but it still feels good sometimes it’s syncopated though, all the half-hearted conversations that go nowhere but we both pretend, or not knowing enough people at party and never being natural, whatever that is but even if its felt right or wrong they've always been there the rhythms melodies and harmonies, it’s natural But rhymes are forced, there to make sense, of a world without logic, with a little pretence. © 2017 Hell in a Hip FlaskReviews
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3 Reviews Added on April 1, 2017 Last Updated on April 1, 2017 AuthorHell in a Hip FlaskMoscow, IDAboutI’m a new writer, I enjoy writing short essays, but would love feedback on anything and everything. Don’t be afraid to tear into my work, it will be appreciated more.. |

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