I would get angry.
But who would it help.
No one.
Not me.
Not you.
Have you noticed yet the lack of ryme?
I don't feel like it any more.
It went to the beat of my heart.
But that's broken.
So hence no ryme or rythem.
I had fixed it.
But again, it's bean broke.
So I ripped it out.
Like the animal I am.
And now I'm watching it.
Withering and dying.
The pain is bliss.
As soon as it stops.
I'll slam it back in.
And the rythem will return.
Then the fuel off inspiration will burn.
See, it's in again.
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