DEAR ELIZABETH:
Your rise is a crime.
Behind bars of this rhyme
Seeking reprieve
Forced to take leave
My words lost, out of time.
Half filed in a drawer,
Half talk to the floor;
Your method obscene
Like a misguided teen
On track to simply Produce more.
Never a word found in kind
Slumped by the wheel of this grind.
This exchange has turned petty.
Dear God I am ready
To leave this brown box behind.
Behind bars of this rhyme
Seeking reprieve
Forced to take leave
My words lost, out of time.
Half filed in a drawer,
Half talk to the floor;
Your method obscene
Like a misguided teen
On track to simply Produce more.
Never a word found in kind
Slumped by the wheel of this grind.
This exchange has turned petty.
Dear God I am ready
To leave this brown box behind.
names have not been changed to protect the guilty
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