Inspiration: Thinking about feeing forced to be sorry.
Word: Sorry
So this is my, "I'm sorry poem"
this is the poem,
in which I'm expected to
apologize, recognize,
and express regret for
unusual but necessary activity
that resides, dives, and will not die
within me.
This is the poem in which,
I ramble
and gamble,
my morality-my person-
in an effective (not really) effort
to reserve a friendship, an (acquaintanceship really)
that I may have with you.
Well listen
You, one is expected to become them,
then enjoy and develop a since of standards,
and once you decided my standard didn't fit your norm
you preceded to enlightened me-
with the upright notion, that it was my right,
(my duty really) to praise upon you and apology, an "I'm Sowry."
Well I'm sincerely sorry
because my lips can't touch
and my tongue can't twist
to form such absolute bullshit
But real with it,
I don't apologize
and I won't objectify my realness
my il-ness, to provoke a you that is satisfied-
gratified with my deprecation into a still functioning creator
that has no will to be nonlinear
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