Here I Go… Too Late

 So I went outside 

I was not 

At least I don’t 

Think

I fucked up. 

I read a muse a poem…

About themselves.

I broke the rules 

The laws 

Of 

Beauty

The 

Vows 

Of truth. 

I read a muse her poem.

I became creep

Creepy creeping creeper 

Her friend putting up a fight to stay in her 

Black dress, seemed to suggest a pep 

Talk might 

Might 

But 

I didn’t think 

Thunk

Should thinked

I’m creep I read her a poem to make her feel 

Feel

Feel 

Feel better.

I made it worse. 

Worse 

Was the poem really that bad?