I've written many of these poems
Enough to prompt Hyperbole
And yet, while I'm afraid to show them
You often have inspired me
Through frustration, care or rage
To prompt my dusty pecil's scrawl
To rail against your foolish age
To tell you that I'd give my all
To write a poem that would find use
Beyond my own room's cluttered shelf
My pen would subject you to abuse
If it would save you from yourself
Have a care, You tempting flame
In the way your life has turned
For those who I will leave unnamed
Have the power, still, to burn
I won't say more, I promise, Chris
For I don't want to face your wrath
But my last question, friend, is this
Will you forgive me if I laugh?
Your really do put on a show
For all your acting, your love and pain
There's one that we both still know
You can't help but to entertain
