Simplicity is a curse
That affects my hands
As they struggle to etch out
Perfect words
And my brain is a fog
That no one understands
Full of gibberish and nonsense
That simply is intelligible
And I am a being
Still trying to understand
Why poetry is a career
I must not like having money
Or why language isn’t enough
To express my thoughts
Why I’m ill worded
And a worse speller
As I fall behind
Another meaningless poet
With more questions

Fallen to my simplicity