Real Poetry?

Searching for the flow

so it can spill on the page

Allow my emotions to go

instead of building rage,

but no story is worthy

so i dispose of my words

Can’t articulate what’s worse

 

Life crumbling,

No dwindling,

Erase,

fads,

Grazing,

Hostile,

Impatience,

Just...just...just

Can’t take it

 

Abstract without ideas

Lacking imagination

no amount of work

can fix any of my creations

Reduce my writing

Reuse saying

Recycle old work

Hoping a miracle will save it

 

Love keeping,

lingering,

memories,

not open to

placing

quitting

Right in my vocabulary

 

But I threw out my inspiration

Turned over a new leaf

leaving the identity

that allowed me to breathe

Attempt to recover it back

with a lack of structure

String verses together

hoping it would match a scheme

 

Level shaking,

testing,

unity,

vigorous,

will,

xarening,

Zeal

 

In a time where i was finding the missing―

Admist tragedy

I abandoned the writing me

and used poetry as a means

to flee

 

From flat characters

Missing plots,

Boring settings,

and incomplete thoughts

 

I didn’t follow any rules

because i wasn’t subjugated

until i entered a contest

and failed on the pavement


Switched the flow too much

Didn’t rhyme enough

Because if it’s half its not whole

Enough

 

That fact that this piece is

me coming to peace

with the fact

that poetry brought me back to peace

Peace

This poem is about: 
Me

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