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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


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