Poetry doesn't keep
you can't put it on hold
that first thought
word
image
can't be put aside
it must be written down quickly
lest it fly away
The trail must be followed
leading you to the end
or you will get hopelessly lost
and never find your way again
Poetry is a dish best served hot
it goes bad quickly
one millisecond past the expiration date
and it is spoiled
rotten
barely resembling it's original form
inedible
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