Angry Birds

I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who stuffs evelopes in a pale green office.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet hiding from expectations which peep through windows.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who writes it down in 20 different ways rather than say it our loud.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who sees the rain falling on the washing and stays at the desk.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who can't take a bath without a pen and soggy paper.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet with duties firmly ignored for the fictional taskmasters they are.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet hiding beneath a table in the eye of a storm.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who rhymes stew with poo just to hear her repeat it back.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet with a healthy disregard for metre or rhyme and a disturbing fetish for repetition.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who doesn't want to be a poet.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poet who opens evelopes in a pale green office despite having stuffed them moments earlier.
I don't want to be a poet.
I want to be a poem.