I am a human being
not a yo-yo.
You can't throw me away
and expect me to come back
without fail, every
single
time.
My rope is thin, fragile
much like the heart that beats
deep inside of me.
Let me stray too far
the connection breaks.
I fall from your hold
I fall from grace
and nothing is there to cushion my fall
nothing but the cold hard ground.
I am not a yo-yo
yet like the plastic I grow cold
on the hard ground.
Now if we neglect the cliché roses
we can move onto the more interesting of the duo.
Violets. They are what they are. Violet.
Avoiding redundancy, we've forever labeled them blue.
Violet is not blue. Violet is as Violet is.
Perhaps Violet is gloomily blue at times
or an envious green
or a ripe raging red
a serene sunny yellow
or a favored flustered fuchsia.
Ultimately, it's just Violet.
We need comparisons
we need likeness.
Why is it that two things must be juxtaposed?
Violet is stand alone.
No words are necessary.
Its own name depicts its likeness.
There were no words apt to capture it.
You simply know or you do not.
I don't get your obsession for
intricate,
colorful metaphors.
I'll dish out metasixes
With double rainbow shading
My similes will be as similar
As simile is to similar.
This rendition will take place too
Fast to foreshadow repetition.
My personification will personify itself
To tress the extent of which it is used
And to what magnitude.
Poems posted poorly ponder questions
Posed imPortantly in regards to why they
Pale in comparison.
My rhyme schemes pertain to rhyme heists or
Hijackings. You are a victim.
To me. Society. Undoubtedly pondering
Quietly as to what he could be onto.
This is not written comedy, it is
Improm