Am ready to take words out of the sack
Sense or no sense at all
Everything will rhyme, like a 'tall ball'
Words are too many
the right ones too few
I have never understood, how tasty is stew
An writing without a cause
And skipping every punctuation and pause
Writing works wonders for me
nothing else can help..no coffee no tea
I like how senseless this is turning out to be
But thats how even life is for me
Time and again I try to be sensible
But to no avail, I like my senselessness' decible :p
Who says words are to be used a certain way
I want to hear them only the way they make me sway
Poetry is indeed about the sound it makes
Just rhyme, that is all it takes
These days there are too many fakes
which are like ships in a lake
Rhyming days are back again
Time to get rid of all the happiness and pain
And also my shirt's blue stain
from the paint on tower down the lane
