Rhyme Scheme (My Problematic Addictive Written Pet Peeve)

Plotting away on the words to be written, I carefully construct plots to keep a reader engaged. A lover delicately courting the fair lady; entirely overly smitten. The words come and go on the paper, like the tides ebb and flow near the pier. Flowing in a direction utterly beyond my control. A boat written on the paper flowing out to sea, yet the words are a high tide, rough low waves carry me back to see the shore once more. I yearn to be away, but always return to home’s side.

You see, the words deceive me. Telling me sweetly I can be created as whatever I wish to believe. Take the boat out to sea, and you can find the land on the other side of me. Bleed on the paper, become the creator and the power will be yours; I must have misunderstood the musings inside, the mind uttering utterly gibberish that comes with no translator. Returning again and again to the land I began, I can’t get away. I’m trapped, tides faster than me, I quickly became overran.

Over and Over I took what I tried. Prose written on paper, the words between lines. Bars that trap me, I cannot escape. Believe me, I’ve tried. The measure of me being taken, tried, measured weighted. The words lacking substance quickly forgotten.

The rhythm is sickening, killing me. Repulsivity taken to the extreme. Words created, no structure or measure, a horrible beast, causing nothing but suffering. A trap laid at the foundation of written creations. I try to get away, and avoid the pitfall, hoping to entrap and enthrall the readers, the location of the trap, I cease to recall.

The words escape me, except when it flows. I spit certain unflattering poetry, a rhythmless cadence whose tune is unknown. Questions are flowing how I got in this mess. The answers uncoming. The words refuse to confess. I leave it all behind, forget how it began, taking boat out to sea, the tide returns my boat to me, on the shores of my life I am left to wander in wonder.

Yet remaining unquestioned, my word reigns supreme.
Plotting my words into plots to be read and seen,
Trap has been sprung, words written into a noose around the creative plot’s neck. A terrible tragedy.
Serious words showing serious plots, turned against me, plots turn to schemes, words scheming against me. The plot I had envisioned, ruined by yet another ridiculous Rhyme Scheme

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