Words get caught in you’re mouth.
They make sense until you slur all of them together to make all of those stupid rules about,
i before e ecxcept after c blah, blah, blah, 2+2 is 4, yah, we all know it.
Here, this next sentence I won’t even use a comma.
I love dance gymnastics and penguins.
See I didn’t use any commas, no one can stop me because this is a free-verse poem.
When we all think of english we think of grammar.
Why can’t we just let loose one day?
Just one measly day?
It won’t hurt at all.
Sure.
Whatever.
Like that would ever happen.
Rules, rules, rules, they never end.
Almost like this poem, I won’t stop ‘till I feel like it.
I think I need some slang just to throw some teacher overboard.
Nah, I don’t feel like it, can’t think of any right now.
I want a brownie, yah.
I’ll go in there and get me a cool glass of milk too.
I will march right in there and be all like,
“You can’t stop me from gettin’ no glass o’ milk.”
But she will.
No brownie for you.
No fun.
All Rules.