Never again will I write of curdled affection,
Or of social commentary gone cold,
Or of life lessons past their due date,
Or regurgitate similes flecked with mould.
Never again will I write formally.
I will not count syllables,
Or map rhymes,
Or follow predetermined lines.
Never again will I write in free verse.
I will not ignore direction signs,
Or have words spill across stanzas,
And I will certainly not have metaphors that meander.
Never again will I write another poem.
What more needs to be said?
I’m pulling up the sheets and going to bed.