Nobody Buys It

What would I do without free verse? Well, I'd fit to a form Intellectually it's within my gift I can master it (thank you for your applause) I'm musing rather than showing off Returning again to my thought Why do I present myself like this? When I could be perfectly turned out I'm evidently looking for acceptance Of the landscape of my mind By having no shop window Or perhaps one that says "Enter at your own risk" The continual push and pull And difficult terrain (note how I've mixed my metaphors and broken enjambment rules to make proceeding tricky?) Then, if you make it to the end There's no reward as I've not always finished the poem I'm a tricky customer (didn't I own this shop a minute ago?) This cup of tea has done nothing to pull my thoughts together But it's ok Because poetry says: ~This may be a stylistic choice~ I feel sea sick now "Is the sea terrain?" This is more a Google thing Than the end of a poem "I know"