Will you write me a poem?

Roses are red,

My life seems black.

I feel like I'm having

A sadness attack.

Today was a bust,

Nobody cared.

The troubles that plague me

With them I did share.

Tomorrow is looming,

Another day dawns

I feel that I must

Attend to my yawns.

And while that I do

These thoughts in my head,

I pray that they leave me,

And roses are red.

My head is spinning around,

The messages float about,

Like dirty washing,

Dancing in the foamy soap.

Spun around back and forth,

The letters toss and turn,

Till with a jilt and jive,

The lost ones they hide,

With a bang and a pop,

The machine it does stop,

but by then the poor bogey,

have nowhere to hide.

As I open the door,

The sweet smelling letter,

The flop to the floor.

And at last I can hang them to dry.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

This generation sucks

And so do you

there once was a towel

his name was towelie

he gets high

and he love his crunk juice

and he make sure

to pay the bills

for his dope

or else he'll be a sad towel

roses are red

violets are dead

you have too much

poop in your head

how soft the sound of butterflies eating

I hate you, and you hate me, too,

And though our love once was true,

I gladly now say "F*ck you."

I suck at poetry