In A Way, I Hate Poetry.
Or reading someone elses', I guess.
It makes me feel inferior
But like the ocean that spreads around my feet, soaking my pants
Until I'm freezing and they are too heavy to walk.
it also makes me feel.
It is beautiful
But terrifying.
In a way, I hate poetry.
Or reading someone elses', I guess.
It makes me see my own in a different way
As if the lines I write aren't worthy.
But like the skyline on top of a tower, the midnight sun pasted against the watery sky
After endless night in a city where counting stars was nothing compared to counting subway cars
They make me see.
A different view
I've never seen before
Different words
A different soul
A different story.
In a way, I hate poetry.
Or reading someone elses', I guess.
And I wonder if someone
Sees my words the same way.
