A Poet Yet

Golly, I'm embarrassed. Or at least I will be.

I will write about the bad and the good,

the innocent and the smitten. 

Clean things. Dirty things.

I hope my mom doesn't find out. 

I am a self advocating poet.

I claimed myself in the tenth grade.

I pray I'm good at it.

Many times, I've been told that the fabric

which holds us together is lies.

How untruthful. Lies help us turn a blind eye,

the truth makes us opne them, and accept.

And it is our human nature to overcome.

I feel like we've forgotten that power. 

I plan to write about the ugly things.

And the beautiful things.

The truth is both of those things in themselves.

I plan to be the best of writers. I plan to be a queen.

I plan to become a professional in the bedroom, 

I plan to gain infinite knowledge.

I am nothing yet and still, but a humbled poet.

But this humble poet is about to become an enzyme 

of catastrophic portions.

I am ready to shatter the world.

You have a will, you make a way,

and the rest will follow. 

And the rest will follow.

I plan to write and write to much avail.

* But I really just hope that my mom 

never finds out.