(no subject)
So, you wanna know where I was yesterday? In class. And you know what happens in class? I get bored. You wanna know what I do when I get bored? Like, really bored? Like, even-doodling-is-boring bored?
That's right. I write poetry. Specifically, sonnets. I like them because I appreciate the structure, and cause it makes me feel all cool and old-fashioned and superior. That's right, you emo bitches! I actually RHYME! I have METER! How d'ya like THAT?
Anyway, what's the point of writing poetry without posting it all over the internet? And what's the point of having a blog if you don't post poetry in it like every other post? That's, like, breaking LJ Rule One.
Footsteps pounding on the streets below-
The chase begun, the quarry in the trap.
Poor frightened mouse; how could he ever know
How easily he fell into her lap?
The predator, now woken from her nap,
With slow and sleepy hunger stalks the prey.
He pauses, rests - then suddenly, a tap!
He turns too late and finds no other way.
The alley seems to shrink, he starts to sway.
No one shall know what on that night he saw.
She steps so slowly down the alleyway,
And with sweet smile, unhinges her jaw.
A dozen shutters close against his screams,
And later claim that all they heard were dreams.
That's right. I write poetry. Specifically, sonnets. I like them because I appreciate the structure, and cause it makes me feel all cool and old-fashioned and superior. That's right, you emo bitches! I actually RHYME! I have METER! How d'ya like THAT?
Anyway, what's the point of writing poetry without posting it all over the internet? And what's the point of having a blog if you don't post poetry in it like every other post? That's, like, breaking LJ Rule One.
Footsteps pounding on the streets below-
The chase begun, the quarry in the trap.
Poor frightened mouse; how could he ever know
How easily he fell into her lap?
The predator, now woken from her nap,
With slow and sleepy hunger stalks the prey.
He pauses, rests - then suddenly, a tap!
He turns too late and finds no other way.
The alley seems to shrink, he starts to sway.
No one shall know what on that night he saw.
She steps so slowly down the alleyway,
And with sweet smile, unhinges her jaw.
A dozen shutters close against his screams,
And later claim that all they heard were dreams.