Descort and an attempt.
I am the descort, and thwart, and long
for discordant, mordant chaos;
See the pretty dissolution,
See the ditty pattern briefly then
Dissolve away
Into a
Newer
Mode of messy disagreeable
(but me-able)
Affray, with lovely spite and hating,
Fights and hurting,
Never abating.
(Quite contrary me.) What Poetry Form Are You?