You Not Me

-Wrote on 09.22.2023, Edited on 10.13.2023-

I can write a thousand mawkish poems;

Yet it is too hard to moan for who you are.

I can’t see the purpose of encoding;

Yet it is too intriguing to puff in art.

I can play something random or defined;

Yet nothing compares to eyes aroused.

I can’t hear very trivia in fine lines;

Yet get surrounded will never befoul.

I can do my job and ace daunting roads;

Yet barely sufficing against dire odds.

I can't punt and fold without mind that’s told;

Yet so much temptation – drives me to pop.

Ever my fault hovers and spreads its law,

Moving on means no budge, but tacit roar.