Poetry I’m not best at it,
But still you seek for me like a meat.
Draw your sword and be ready to beat em’,
Get a paper and start to write a poem.
The shallow seas and lonely oceans,
You swim and walk like crustaceans.
And find the lost chest in depths,
But be care because there goes the death
And now you found your lost treasure,
You threw yourself because you are so unsure.
Unsure because your sword was broken,
That you won’t be able to write another token.
I believe this poem is in chaos,
Like Achilles’ childhood that lives in Skiros.
But writing poems is a simple method.
It is a science but without the scientific method.