Love (or the lack thereof)

Tanka, Cinquain, Haiku, Ballad, Blues
Sestina, Blank Verse, Free Verse,
AHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I write this poem
As hate flows in my veins.

Rhyming words, Figurative language,
Personification, Syllable counts.
Oh, how aggravating
Those little things are.

I sit here wondering
If I have a choice
To do this or not.
Because If I did
I wouldn’t be writing this
Senseless poem.

How can people endure
Doing this for a living?
Who and where are they?
I know one thing for sure
They must be crazy.

Well, if there’s one good thing
About this,
It’s that I’m finished
With this horrid script.