Learn more about other poetry terms

So these words messy messy words get combobbled in my head. Screwed around with tossing and turning like they're on a high seas adventure of epic porportions.  And some can't hold on 
I'm busy. But the words are begging to be free. I'm tired, But the emotions won't leave me. I know I must give vent somehow. I sit. The writing begins, now.
They never saw it coming, there was just the quiet before the storm. A call was made to their home, their mother answered the phone. Then the emotional storm started.
There was nothing more between us But some pleasant conversation Though when you looked right at me My heart had palpitations My heart had opened up For love (to come from you)
How bizarre is it for one To sit on their hardwood bedroom floor, black ink bleeding from their pen onto lined college ruled paper? She never liked words, she never liked reading, and books were her ennui.
As a writer the word “literature” has an ever-changing definition.
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