About the whole two middle stanzas rhymning... well, I thought it would be interesting structure. I'm starting to second guess that thought process. Well, rip apart please and by rip apart I mean completely obliterate ;D.
Ode to My Coffee Cup
I’m thinking it be better if,
The coffee was a little stronger,
Or the sun a little warmer.
The screen a little dimmer.
I’m typing, typing, typing,
But the words all come out wrong.
Damn that stupid coffee cup;
It’s his fault I can’t write.
It sits and cools and does everything wrong.
But no, not me. I fight.
Damn those scratched up glasses;
It’s their fault I cannot see,
How to make this poem,
Even somewhat part of me.
Music wouldn’t help me.
No, distractions are an out.
Even if I had a clue,
What the hell I’m writing ‘bout.
The thesaurus is my enemy.
Its words don’t seem to fit.
Simplicity is all I got,
While I drink, and think, and sit.
I’m sure it can’t be my fault.
Why shouldn’t my words suffice?
A writer thinks and knows and tries real hard,
Whilst I… well I just suck.
Give and take is all I’ve got,
And the coffee’s just not enough.
