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| Poetry Crime One more page has been ripped apart One more line crossed out Feeling chills going up my spine Writting poems has become a crime No one uses Shakespeare style To tell a woman the deep desires No one sends goosebumps up our spines With words of something that would rhyme Is it so hard to writte four lines Of something simple yet desired Is pride the reason for neglect Or weakness substituted now for romance A woman's heart has not changed With centuries that came and went We still desire the simple ryme So since when is writing poetry a crime? |