Poetry, 123

Why is it that every poem opens with the same line;

Roses are red violets are blue.

When really, violets are violet, and roses vary in colour?

Every kid in school, who lacks in imagination, relies on this phrase.

Though there are us who spend hours, bleeding creation and sweating dreams.

Weaving words into beauty, and rhyme into imagery.

There are still the ones who rely on

Roses are red violets are blue.

Ergo, roses are red violets are blue

A very cheesy poem

Written by you.

Think back to the classrooms,

To the kids with their blank expressions.

The one’s who were only present, because it was required.

Think back to your desk,

Which you impregnated with pencil lead.

Hours of slaving over slaughtered trees,

With your wings bound against the back of those cheap plastic chairs.

Go back to the exams,

Which some how have the ability to determine your creativity.

Through multiple choice, and definition.

Not caring about what’s deep with in,

Just what’s been studied with flash cards and word games.

I wanna start the war

against clichés.

Battling "roses are red",

challenging lame similes

and mediocre metaphors.

Break away from the plastic chairs,

from the blank expressions and glares.

Free yourself from the mainstream.

Dimming your creativity,

shunning individuality,

perhaps sparking insanity.

The thing I'm trying to get across,

is that even if these kids hold you down,

like the chains on Marley's ghost,

I'll push you forward

to find the place where you belong,

even if we're on our own.