Lame

fester-whatsoever, was that, my pen wasn't that ken, many a times I stand to write, but weak I feel and felt no to.. days came with no words I slept all night thinking; and yet couldn't see. why was I a poet, by the way I failed English; you made me a firm, when you knew me not. what good have I wrote you see right, was that by words, I mean by such in your sight I lamed by you if could make be, in my dream.