Holly Bohto Poet Free verse

Uneasily Methphorically

I met a man
who broke out
in a sweat
When I asked him
to read my poems
I thought it was odd
to be so distraught
I never saw
 this phenomenon 
His eyes looked
 long gone
So:
It got me thinking
About:
what's wrong 
with poetry
Isn't:
It about syllables 
we count
and the timing
 in rhyming
And:
The smelling 
of dirt
in organicly
 growing words
With:
Thoughts flowing
underneath 
our surface
Accompanied:
By emotions
exuding
 out of 
our being
Then:
The thought
 hit me
he
 couldn't see
Because:
He 
didn't understand
 empathy
he's
 the product 
of sociopathy
So:
I clicked 
my pen
and went on
 to pretend
That:
What was 
deficient
 in him
wouldn't 
affect
 the writing 
in me
After:
I went on 
to florish
with my 
well chosen
 stories
Then when:
He still
 couldn't
 get them
Low and Behold:
I had to close
my poems
................with
 "The End."

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