poem with too many complex rhymes. it's kind of a shit poem

Poem with too many complex rhymes. it's kind of a shit poem

Skate shoes and scape goats
Bearded mean with shaved throats
I walk around with the same hope that my mother does

She gave it to me

Nose rings and old things
My uncle Joe sat in the cold and slowly sold things
One by one

The sun isn't welcome here

At least it seems that way

Or perhaps an old transgression made by this part of the
Earth made the sun uninterested in spending much time here
Shining only enough each year to remind us what we're missing

You can't eat a poem
And dharma can make for a marvellous excuse
Here I am again, alone in the city