RIPEAP

'Tis naught
That I would not give
To realize but some fraction
Of that which dwells in my fragile mind.

But naught
That I would say
Would make you stay
So why attempt?

For my prose
Shares not
The fullness or faith
That I imagine myself to possess.

So flee from my
Dogged cliches
And at last you'll be out of my clutches.