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When I met a poem

Tuesday 8 th March 2011

When I met a poem,
the first one I'd met,
I thought it was really boring,
something that I did admit.

 It had no rythm, 
it had no Rhyme,
it had no title,
it was a crime.

When I told the police,
What the heck did he say?
"Peace, don't call the police,
for a crime that is just a waste of time!"
"May you explain?" 
"I was talking to a man on a train to spain,
So, what is wrong with your brain?"
"I have no problem with my brain,
I am just trying to explain,
that there is a poem commiting a crime,
And this is NOT a waste of time."
"Yes this is a waste of time, 
because this crime is just a mime,
and that a poem that doesn't rhyme,
isn't a crime."

And than I freaked out,
and I really doubt,
a poem would start such a thing,
like a woman falling over a ring,
forgetting her left wing,
in the middle of spring.

When I met a poem,
the second one I'd met,
I found out very easily,
that a poem doesn't have to Rhyme.

(The second one was the police if you didn't know)