Analysis of THE ART OF BEING A POET

                      
           THY LIMN PROSAIST

i. I'm bound to imprint locutions,
   Prompts with sour
   construction of         
   words.
   Ruling triumphs of impromptus.

ii. Blood is my linking ink,
    Sorrowful or not it's worth it,
    i'm proving grounds thou
    I'm willing to commit.

iii. Vividly thinking thy story.
      To bring humms in thy industry,
      Book is my only control of liquid
      irony.

iv. I'm thy guilty culprit for spitting
     philosophy,
     To simply thrill souls,
     Listing mut prompts tingly.

v. Drunk in my sorrow,
    With thy words curving upon my
     book,
    Driving unto the hidden 'ntry

vi. I'm simping locutions,
     Furth thy living hoes,
     I bring lucidy into imposing gloom.

vii. Curved thy savvy into words,
      Blinding commotions brought
      em soul,
      Living firstly unknown in this world.

viii. High-ho! Lady unicus is possessed,
        In thy palms written thy course
        How silly she's still unknown.

ix.  Bringing joy for thou,
      Living lilies scent for growth
      Wanders in thy woods for
       lawn.

x. To bloom with infirmity in my phylum,
    This is who I'm living,
    I won't stop for, this is what   I'm limn of.