Poetrified - a collection of poetry

cliché

i did not know that i wanted to write clichés
never before until it was 1 am
and i had sappy music playing and writing this.
unbelievable, i know, okay?
but let's not talk about that
also, don't ask why my poems don't rhyme
don't ask; the earth i live is a barbaric, non-complying piece of nuisance that doesn't sync and that's it.
my skies don't turn lilac in early summer evenings
(the thunderstorms are regular)
my autumn is not fallen red leaves
but petals raked off so very haphazardly into the trash
(it doesn't matter,
the difference doesn't matter;
anything fallen will be sweeped)
my winter is not crisp skies but lost clouds
that didn't even realise it was winter already
(the summer nights weren't just yesterday?)
my spring doesn't bloom
but splatters mud more often than petals
(i left them in trashcan)
how do i write clichés?
staring at my broken and covered mirror
lip syncing with my radio
"are you with me?"