Ravishing the Rage

Every word was

Misplaced

All the verse I wrote

For you was fake

 

The structure of all poems was

Third rate

The order of words I put together

Was after all a mistake

 

If I had shed my confidence in you

I would never be so late

I would not sit and ponder

But be rather ashamed

 

All the love was rather

Displaced

You were nothing but a

Fleeting rage