You don’t like my poetry

You don’t like my poetry because the rhyme sounds like carpentry. You never ever like my poetry because the cause is entry of plenty of knowledge. To know is good and in the dark wood the bark comes sheeps that you would want in a ship to sink with ink the censorship.  What is going on?, the bong is banned and the song is bad. The tune has to change soon before the world becomes gore. Do you understand and stand?. I teach each peach has a seed indeed. I teach each beach is filthy and they don’t feel guilty. Put the sin in the bin and close the lid to live. Share if you dare and care about despair. Thank you.