Word Wars

There is no rhyme or reason

Form is flawed and grammar treason

Sonnets crumble
Stanzas tumble
As the words fall to the page
Fighting in each others rage

A war for placement and position
Where "mystery" would battle "kitten"

Lines are not to be considered
As 'cross the virgin field they skitter
Some will rise to written glory
Others fall for later stories

Locked inside a vault of red
Kept within a maelstrom head

Peeping out from calm green eyes
Wishing they could have the prize
Waiting for the sweetest sin
The chance to fall and fight again