THIS POEM IS NOT TRENDING

I find it so

fantastically

fanatically

fabulously

factitious,

That poems I write feverishly 

in a manic fervor free-heartedly 

paying no heed to rhyme or

rhythm nor meter but solely mood, 

and it just so happens the poem strays

fearlessly,

fetchingly,

figuratively,

fluorescently 

towards trending?

But I care not of fame. 

I have exams to study for, 

and instead, 

I am writing this poetry. 

oh, it is fervent frantic flounderous poetry.

but nevertheless, fantastic five-minute poetry.

my poetry.