Sorely Mistaken
"I love your poems" I can't help roaring with laughter What poems? Why sir, I've never written a poem in my life But I've bled, I've shed Died a thousand deaths on paper, if that is what you mean If you were truly paying attention You'd know there are no poems But a single piece, told in fragments And expressed in different ways, Often times in wild shriek Or a whisper, timid and meek. So you see, there's no room here for poetry