I'm sitting here thinking about what to write
it's been years since I tried to learn how to ryhme
typing isn't easy
and this is just worse
trying to explain to people 
that making poetry makes me burst

into a million leaves, she said
as she cuddled next to me,
and when I tried to go back to sleep
all I could think about
is how could this be?

People love to change, even though they hate it
And when I asked my sister if she'd have kids
she laughed at my face
and tried not to cry
as her stomach pains worsened
I soon realized why

When I don't think poetry is bad
it's really bad
whenever I try to feel better
all I can think about
is how my life is ruined
because of the weather

And whenever I try to break away and breathe for a while
I think about the day I lost three kids in a fire
I kick myself whenever I say rhyming matters
All I care about right now is how I'm a liar

Poetry isn't logic, it isn't sense
It isn't something I like, but it makes
a million leaves float me in the air
and plop me right back to earth
as soon as I'm ready
I can make myself care

But right at this moment
I feel poetry
Is my personal atonement