Here is the letter to me

Not Cheetah but only Jenny

Not many people know you

But that keeps you steady.

People call me posh

but rolling stones gather no moss

the goss, their loss

You lie up there

waiting for this song to write 

You keep on sitting for singing

Am I wrong or right?

Right now all exits seem the same

Try not to cycle or start to blame

this used to be fun

to rhyme and hum

there wasnt the stress of being the one, hun

why not come?

beat your own drum

when is coming up now, your own sun

Hale from Lon-don

but the inspo doesnt come

not gonna lie i feel so dry

why cant you  just write it

why o why

my oh my