Story Bones

The Story Bones,
Rattling through my Brane.
Twice told tales,
Driving me to sane.
Iambic pentameter,
Rhyming diameter.

A parrot could do better.
Cry freedom from these fetters!
This shite will not cease!
Words, not mine to release,
Upon my forehead they do crease.
I know I shall never find peace.

Camden, London 2010