I could tell you a story of a young girl
I could tell you how the sun rises and sets
I could tell you the the sky is blue
I could tell you that it is night
Or I can show you
I could tell you how that young girl feel
Or I can show you how she feels
I could make you feel the fear she feels
I can sends shivers down your spine
As you run and hide with her
I tell you that her running is loud
Or I can show you how she gets caught
I could tell you all about the man who did it
I could tell you about his smell
Or I could show you the craze in his eye
The words I repeat stick in your brain
As I planned them to
They hide, causing you to toss and turn at night
You ponder on how important they must be
My repetition keeps you at your feet
My metaphors are tricky
You will catch them here and there
They're witty, sad, and frighting
Oh my!
Similes are thrown around
Like baseballs chucked at clowns
Although in this tale the clown has the upper hand
For I fear, my similes are as bad as my rhymes
Which should really be a crime.
It's so sad
Sometimes I get mad
Oh how I wish I had a hat
I'll settle for stroking my cat
You see
I could tell you all these things
Or I can show you
Painting images in your head
With my words I'll set you free
Into a world most wouldn't dare to be
All you have to do is
Flip the page.
