It seems like everyone is writing poetry lately, and even though I'm far from great, or good for that matter, I felt like sharing something of mine. I wrote it a couple of months ago and it most likely isn't even going to make sense. See, this is why I dislike to share my work it never makes sense to other people, or I fear it doesn't. Also the poem, if you even want to call it that, is unfinished.
Help me understand the strange dialect of the teacher
Words so bizarre coming from this eccentric accent
I don't know what to listen to or what to ignore.
Writing the scribbles of the little I understand
I find myself becoming more confused
As the words keep dripping from his mouth.
Hm, maybe the poem isn't unfinished. Meh knowing me I'm going to delete this in like two minutes.
