What does this poem even mean? Honestly, sometimes I feel like poets simply string a a bunch of words together in a weird combination to create something “deep” or “new” or “interesting.” Watch as I create a new poem.
The swaying arrow of time ,
Passing through the window of my gentrified soul,
Caresses the fabric of my intrinsic being.
Easy, isn’t it? “Gentrified” and “intrinsic” don’t even make sense in that circumstance, but I made it sound like they do. And you can’t say otherwise, because y’know why? It’s POETRY!!!