In the name of lifting my standard of writing
In a pattern or in a schemes
In meter and in rhymes
In a particular flow or in a particular rhythm
So vanishes many a poem in the choosing process
When I went to select the ideas biggest
When I was told not to write
Everything
What gyrating or churning in my peculiar mind
What the heck the advice gives me nothing but naught
I dried up like a lake which was once oozing like a hive
No more I wish to deprive the world
From whatever I loss or gain
The pain I suffer, the grievances I have
Or go through the mood of sadness
Disregarding another ADVICE
Poems should not have any personal remorse.