When I write a rhyme, the
words come from my mind
Sometimes they are fact,
sometimes fiction
And I don’t decide, what
words come from inside
It’s not about truth,
it’s the diction
I write about feelings, I
write about life
What you read might be
mine, it might not
I don’t pick a direction,
I don’t care for perception
I just write the words I
have got
Sometimes I might muse,
that someone could lose
Someone special, and
never recover
But you should not read
in, that it is my sin
Or that I’m lamenting the
loss of my lover
Some rhymes contain
truth, but it would be uncouth
If I was bound just to my
thoughts and feelings
Then my stories would be, only tales about me
So from other sources I
often go stealing
So when you read, that my
heart it does bleed
Or when I think of her
that my eyes rain
Don’t give it a thought,
it’s not my heart that’s fraught
It’s a poem, I’m just
channelling pain
If every song writer, or
crooning all-nighter
Was bound by their words
sung or spoken
They would be so very
sad, every romance would go bad
And every song would have
to leave a heart broken
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