It ain't po-etiquette

[Leanne]

Here I sit, broken hearted
tried to write, my muse departed
pulled my finger, got a sound
inspiration gathered round
choirs of angels, harps in tow
suffering from vertigo
falling in a feathered rain
Heaven's barred to me - again
I can hear the critics scoff
as they try to piss me off
with their petty form and rhyme
beat their chests in four-four time
while they tell me what to do
to them all, I say: haiku