The Ramble

Poem...

Rambling words inside her lines,

Complaints written just to rhyme.

 

Thoughts scribbled so she can vent,

Who really cares what was meant?

 

Here it comes, drop it, let it fall,

It's just one more mistake after all.

 

Never perfect only fools would try,

Her imperfection laid bare and dry.

 

Madness reigns inside her mind

Run away but still left behind.

 

Written secrets tainted with tears,

Ring hallow in a critiques ears.

 

Read your list and only sighed,

No knowledge given, still confined.

 

Expectations chain the playful pen,

Who trips and falls in her attempts.

 

Who reached out to touch a few,

Yet refused to bow down to you.

 

Amateur took flight in early spring,

Hounded by words to clip her wings.

 

Stones thrown to maim and bruise,

But she's to numb from past abuse.

 

Small words have no importance,

Describe this bird with assonance.

 

Little bird, what do you care?

Your morning song no mystery bares.

 

Childish wish just to be free,

Who understood but refused to be.

 

This golden title too hot to hold,

A flower wilted under sun too bold.

 

Withdrawn to shadows for relief,

Slips out for sunlight like a thief.

 

Ink addiction from the core,

Only obeys the need for more.

 

What she feels written her way,

Another ramble, another day.