#226 My Poetry

I don't start
I don't start war
Before I part
I know what for
I haste my death
Would be a waste
When I have
So much
So much
Taste

I have ideals
and fine ideas
In my head
Play tunes of music
And sounds embed
The slick ideals
The fine ideas
In my mind

I can rhyme
Since I was nine
I learned in class
This act one time
I made it brighter
When it was dull
When life grew dark
I drew a skull

The times do change
And so do I
So do my words
Some do die
But new are born
And I do know
So much more
All years
That go

And as much as
I change I do
Know that my art
It won't die too
Even if we part
Someday, some year
My poetry

Will still
Be there