this poem is going to end
so why bother with the pretty words
and imagery beyond the yellowing page
who needs the assonance
asinine and archaic
the syllables
the similes
the iambic pentameter hopping through the line
like a rabbit off a cliff
who needs the internal rhyme
the metonymy
the meter
the metaphor
the parallelism
knowing that this poem will end
keeps it from ever beginning
but now that it exists
it will haunt me forever
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