They say it’s your gene,
This little talent of rhyming words.
Nobody else in our family has it,
Except for you and me.
They say my poems are great,
These tangled emotions in rhymed verse,
Nobody says how meaningless it is,
To write about the love that’s lost.
They say everything will be alright,
That one day I’ll learn how to smile again,
Nobody realises how hard it is,
To try and overcome this sorrow.