Rejected Stanzas From Third Person

He's so phoney in poems, moaning only, same tone, same story, a war he can't endure anymore that beats him sore and sorry, exploring his core for strength absent before in writes of sheer folly. Wanting to write powerfully like Churchill or Eminem, but unable to create an impact as do many men. It's easy to ridicule the metaphorical irrelevance, as he revamps old writes lacking in intelligence. Always using the same twist from behind a different mist, ending with insistence he can return from great distance, but he's not fooling anyone, his fall's evident to everyone. If he'd focused when he wrote this and applied a thought process, he might have aspired beyond mono syllable rhyming and formed continuous structure, but too useless to see it rewrote and tidied of mess, he tirelessly goes on n on with simple investment of contagious rupture. He used to try and rhyme three words in each line, double-rhyming words that evoke the mind, concludes over time ease occurred with decline, now forcing sounds heard or spoke in the rows behind. By this point in the poem he is aware of his failure, after reading back the words he's just tailored, happy to cliche but not be a sunken sailor, he tells of new fire, desire and determination to respond braver. Follows the procedure of "seeking the peak", covering up the fact he's pathetically weak, forgets he lives worn down, always too tired, and suddenly he's electrically alive and wired, the traits of the self conning compulsive liar. Self critical now in his inhospitable soul, existing solely pitiful on the whole, typically critique doesn't motivate towards the goal, believing he's snowballing too fast to stop the roll. All he takes from being mentally broken, is his bravery to tell and let it be spoken, doesn't care how they judge his way of coping, because all he has left is being completely open.