rofls sinister

I am writing a poem today,
to bad it is July, not May.
I wish I maybe could see the darkness
that reigns wooden spears over a story.

A story that describes life without reason,
who needs reason when you have strife?
that's right with all your might you can't
speak without words.

Edit the words you speak to identify the meek.
rhyme and rhythm is withering like weeping
willows blowing in the soft shade. If you
can speak you can say, but if you don't use
diction to can't write and say.

hey, im rob :) nice to meet you