Written in verse, it pretends.
Starting with structure, it ends.
When one tries to rhyme,
One wastes their time.
Written in verse, it pretends.
On this white paper, I write.
Here on this paper, I fight.
Here I wage wars,
To open closed doors.
On this white paper, I write.
I wish I could be wish you now.
But I know that I will be, somehow.
I love you, my dear,
And I with you were near.
I wish I could be with you now.
I must not abuse this this term, love.
For the truth is as pure as a dove.
If we overuse,
We find we abuse.
I must not abuse this this term, love.
As once it began, it now ends.
Because written in verse it pretends.
Once it went 'round,
And the end I have found.
As once it began, it now ends.