I want to be poetic
soft-spoken and spirited
sweet, sappy and sombre
spilling sunrays, spitting stories
seeking solace, spearing stars
I don’t feel like a poet
I string syllables into sentences
suffer sorrow for dramatic entrances
still haven’t figured out what independence is
wish I found a key to cleanliness
they say repentance is
my pores are clogged with muck and dirt
these poems ache, are they supposed to hurt?
how can I call myself a poet
when words fall at my feet?
they fail me
almost as much
as people do.
17:06 - 05/03/23