I’m not too familiar with the sonnet
And I usually say, “Bless you,” when I hear the word haiku
I didn’t go to college
And I am not a well full of knowledge
I bite my fingernails
And they somehow end up on the floor of my car
And I sleep naked
And I spend way too much time on social media
I avoid the doctor at all coast
And I never go to the dentist
And I have more books on my shelf that I haven’t finished
Than books that I have finished
I read some Shakespeare
A long time ago
And I act like I have answers to life
When really all I have are seeds
That might grow into trees
Or into weeds
We’ll see some day, won’t we?
I barely knew the language when I started to type
But somehow
I had hype
I was just a broken man, back then
Playing pretend
Taking the suffering I was feeling within
And channeling it through a pen
Turning a website into a series of confessions
Doing whatever it took to feel like I was still living
And a few of you related
And I got addicted
To feeling listened
I always did love
Attention
A middle child who went a little wild
And got carried away trying to play writer
So I did a thousand reps
I wrote a thousand poems
And two years passed
And then I wrote a novella
And a year passed
And then I wrote a novel
And I woke up one day
And I was actually a writer
And a regular job made me feel sick
Waking up early to an alarm
Felt like a curse
Pretending to care
When I become too aware
Of the precious seconds ticking by . . .
It didn’t feel right
No, I didn’t think anything could feel worse
And that was when I knew I had to try
So, yeah
I may not be a proper poet
But I am one
And now I am an author
Not a proper one
But a decent one
Give me a few more years
And let’s see what I turn into . . .
Let us see if I planted trees
Or weeds
Inside of me.
CH 5/3/24
Comments