A Perpetual Prose Machine (Poem)

I may never earn a penny, 

but what do I care? 

These words are what they are. 

I have plenty to spare. 

Who may mock my rhymes? 

It doesn’t matter to me. 

These are most uncertain times, 

but the words must still fly free!

These are the ramblings of 

a perpetual prose machine, 

which sometimes turn to rhyme. 

It’s mostly free verse, 

but it becomes lyrical 

from time to time. 

I’m born to create. 

Really, we all are. 

So let’s just do that, 

and make it sound pretty. 

Where do I go from here? 

Nowhere perhaps, but 

why does that matter? 

The journey on which 

the words will take us;

it’s magical and strange. 

It could make us happier 

or make us sadder. 

But, whatever we may feel, 

we can’t turn back.

These words are what they are. 

And, yes, I have too many to spare!