All writers, will write a poem.
But little did they know, that poetry is often more beautiful without any rhyme.
A poem might be better off, if the lines are devoid of any rhyme.
Rhymes in poetry are as superficial as rose-tint on windowpanes.
Rhymes in poetry are as deceptive as ice-layer on the surface of wintry lakes.
Sometimes, to achieve rhyme, a poem may sacrifice its meaning for want of rhyming words.
To make it sound more pleasing to the ear.
While life itself is often cacophonous.
Rhyming lines stink of pretention.
Of attempts to preserve looks and appearances, while attempting to appear focused on content, and content alone.
Is there any difference in messages, delivered in rhyming lines, or cacophonous ones?
How many a deceit is rhymed so beautifully and lulled souls to oblivion.
How many a truth is swished aside, for truth is often singular, and does not need nor approve of a rhyme.
A Poem, once written, will never die.
The paper may crumble and the ink may wash off, but the lines are recorded eternal.
In the hearts of minds of those who remembered it.
Every so often, the Rhymes are remembered more than the Poem.
A Poem, devoid of any Rhymes, stands on its own solitude.
Needing not any reciters, nor starry-eyed admirers.
Spouting the lines away, admiring the resonant rhymes.
A Poem, devoid of any Rhymes, stands on its own uniqueness.
Needing not to conform, to succumb, to those who say that Poems must have Rhymes.
For as long as the Writer of writers remembers it and loves it, a Poem is the best Poem.
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