Random sentences stitched together
These metaphors give their own color
With stories from a heart broke and torn
From the minds deepest, a poem's born
Strengthened by rhyme and mixed together
With some minuscule hints of anger
Memories I'd wish I've forgotten
On the fires of regret, they melted
Translated into small dabs of ink
On this paper where I lay what I think
Although it was me who forms and churn
This poem is not made but is born
