Fringe Fight
I've found the fallacious fabric of fecundity.
Fretting with feeling I frenzy forward; filled with flights of fancy, I fall further.
Fresh faced and foolish I foresee fantastic fruits and famed falters.
From France my foley frames and filters, floating like a falcon, flittering fashionably.
Forgotten faces frantically fraying faster, foreign to formula and fraught with fabricated fragrances of farm fresh family friends.
Fortitude festers for the flustered who flourish fervorously.
Frustrated, I figure that few can force a fire so fierce.
Fame is a farcity of freedom from the flays of fish.
Faded and floundering, freezing and frowning, fortune be fucked.
Fables of fake flailing, I fear that failing isn't frailty but flair.