Inner Critic

17 Sep

There’s nothing worse than jest in verse
Or so my inner critic, thinks
Every time, I fill my rhyme
With fun it says ‘It stinks. It stinks!’

But seriously, it pains me
To write my verse with sober pen
I don’t have in, me discipline
The clown pops up again, again!

So I ask you, what should I do?
Should I bow to my staid reviewer?
Or embrace the clown and we’ll go down
To dance inside the sewer. 

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