Honestly Honest

I've never been good at poetry, or I suppose writing in general.

I have been called a "wordsmtih" before, and friends reassure me that its a compliment.

Not sure if I deserve it, but compliments can be fun I suppose.

I feel that I should rhyme or be repetitive to make a good poem, I am not good at these.

I sometimes question the people I hang out with.

They're nice people in thier own way, but they aren't making me a nice person.

My mother used to say that my constant worrying was a sign of lack of a problem.

I used to worry about my father's health too.

She has stopped saying this.

I feel as if this poem is dragging on, but as I go it makes me hate to stop.

I'm only writing this from the inspiration of a friend.

This was meant to show me what writer I was most like.

This amuses me.

Lots of things amuse me, and humor might be default for me now.

I find that to be funny.

I feel as if I am rambling, and I suppose I am.

Honestly I wish I could wright for ever, I know I can.