Here’s a few words you may want to use in your next one, trust me they’re all there only they might not be in the right order
When the pressure fell on shoulders bent already twisted from a journey in these shoes
I failed, fell, flailed, spat blood and was sent to the house where they send the confused
found guilty, lost words rushing, pushing senseless words that I had dreamed and written,
the bad words, cracked my mind from ear to ear it took my sanity, but They took my kitten
small kitten, high price for bad words written, taken to cat prison, by the angel men in white,
I screamed loudly, wildly, but only in my head disturbed men need no more disturbing, at night
I see the man I used to be rhyming times delight remember how this nightmares rush started
a word found, sound round, ground, bound I wrote verse for the tired and broken hearted,
caught words, sought and bought, placed on a page in lines which danced out, only to play
word hunt, find the one that fits, perfectly aged form and sound meter, hound it on its way
to cracked mind worn, fingers bleeding lip pens paper clip, chip whip a weaver, tune
turned beast to beauty, sinned to sonnets son and this dad sad, sad dad into a perfect loon.
my writing and reading, now mired retired to retread these last words, meaning re-meant
by moving the commas, from poem to prose to tell what pressure, falls on shoulders bent.
Let your self be free among the bars. Otherwise there’s no beer. Sobriety masks reality