I wrote this poem for you
Because you told me to
Now I sit at this desk day and night
Shaking my head, trying to get the words just right
Tossing, changing and altogether rearranging
These words that come in different shapes and sizes
until the floor is strewn with nonsensical phrases.

What you ask for is in itself quite a daunting task
To grab stray words from layers of air
Is as painful as pulling tufts of hair
To huff and puff, and squeeze everything tight
This poem will not come without a fight

The corpses of many failed attempts lay
Bunched up into small angry fists
Victims left behind from fighting words at play

These strung up words don’t seem quite right
further inspection proves I undoubtedly can’t write
The consistency all wrong,
Certain spots too short or too long
rhymes are rare, sprinkled in or vomited out
there’s no pattern no form, no style whatsoever
even witty phrases are not enough to transform this disaster

One day, every word will fit perfectly
Aligned row by row in splendid unity
But until I do,
This poem’s for you